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SOLA IN EUROPE 



BY 

JOSEPKLNE TYLER 



First Outlaw— "Whence came you ? " 

Third Outlaw—" Have you long sojourned there ? " 

—Two Gentlemen of Verona 






BRENTANO BROTHERS 

Chicago New York Washington 

1885 



*$f> 



Copyright, 1885, 
By JOSEPHINE TYLER. 

[All rights reserved.] 



THE LIBRAE? 
OF CONGRESS 

WASHINGTOM 



TROWS 

PRINTING AND BOOKBINDING COMPANY, 

NEW YORK. 



NOTE 



Most of these chapters were published in the Baltimore 
Baptist over the signature of Sola, They are a truthful nar- 
rative of the way a lady travelled in Europe without a guide, 
and with little reference to guide-books. The following, 
among other kind testimonials, was received: "Just hand 
'Sola' a bunch of evergreen for me, as a loving apprecia- 
tion of the rich, beautiful, and varied literary bouquet, so 
sweetly perfumed with rare rhetorical flowers from foreign 
gardens, and so classically handed to us. Some can see, 
but can't tell ; she can do both." 



WAYMARKS. 



CHAPTER I. 

BEING HIGHWATER MARKS. 



Everything was planned so nicely ! Mrs. R. would accompany 
me to Liverpool, when it would be easy to take a train for Lon- 
don, from the Lime Street Station. At London, I should find 
the American Exchange, arranged on purpose to solve for the 
inexperienced all problems of travelling and transportation. From 
England, it must be a very simple thing to go to Montreux, Switz- 
erland, with a tourist's ticket. Once at Montreux, and the friend 
Mile. Z. would arrange all for a tour with herself to the Rigi, or 
some other mountain, where we could rest together, or pursue 
such avocations as might befit our several tastes. I would not 
distract her attention from her artist tasks. She should copy the 
wild flowers of the Alps at "her own sweet will." Nor should I 
need to waste my energies in schooling my plans to suit her every 
mood. In short, we were to be sympathetically independent — a 
most delightful, but too rare position for friends, whose mutual 
tyrannies are sometimes more wearing and oppressive than the 
wrongs their enemies attempt. 

Besides Mile. Z., there were other friends on the Continent, to 
whom I was to be introduced by letter. 

My preparations were unusually complete. My steamship ticket 
was carefully put away in my purse, days before starting. My 
travelling suit compared throughout, even to the new gloves of 
olive green, which I had tested prudently, by trying one of them 
on at the store, and then again at home. There was a little agita- 
tion of mind when the expressman came a moment too soon for 
the baggage, and I had to search out the name of the man to 
whom it was to be entrusted at the pier. His name was written 
on the back of my ticket, which had to be brought out and unfolded. 
At last my friends and I stood at the door ready for a start. I 
was just about to draw on the gloves, when they proved to be both 
for one hand. Yes, it was of no use turning and twisting them 
about. But we should pass Lord & Taylor's on our way to the 



2 WAYMAEKS. 

ship, and I could stop in for another pair. It did not prove to be 
easy to find the right shade, however, and I had to take up with 
a pair which did not quite agree with my suit. "What a small 
affair to write about. But then there is a sense in which no affairs 
are small. Nor did my glove experience disprove this idea. Not 
long after we were well out at sea, they disappeared mysteriously. 
We struck a cold current of air, and for days I had chilled, pinched 
hands whenever I was on deck, unless I hid them under my wrap- 
pings. Had some one kindly restored them to their owner, how 
much would have been added to her enjoyment of the sea. To 
her henceforth green gloves will suggest the significance of trifles. 

But then to find when far out at sea that you have no ticket to 
present to the steward, when .one is demanded, does not even seem 
trifling. You go to the purser to explain that you must have left 
it at home among your papers, or have cast it into the fire with 
those from your waste basket. Somehow you feel like a stow-a- 
way just brought up from between decks, and, if you are a woman, 
you probably cannot get through your explanation without tears 
in your eyes, of which you are ashamed, of course. 

As you walk to and fro on deck, after leaving all signs of land 
behind, you recollect that you are at last in that sublime situation 
of which you have long had bright dreams — afar on the boundless 
sea — " the blue, the fresh, the evergreen ! " 

But what means this languor of brain, which prevents all 
ecstasy? "Take my advice," said a gentleman experienced in 
travelling on the ocean, ' ' do not try much mental exertion now. 
The brain calls for rest when it refuses to work hard at sea." 

So it came about that I did not study " Bichardson on Alcohol " 
very closely, though I found that topic quite pertinent to the 
scenes I saw about me daily. But I recalled the letters which 
had poured in on me at starting, with their sweet assurances that 
I should be prayerfully remembered during my absence. I 
watered the fragrant flowers given me by Mrs. Josephine Braman, 
accompanied with her lovely parting poem, 

THE SOXG OF THE HELIOTROPE. 

A kindly heart hath summoned me to be 

The fragrant messenger of thought's intent, 
And bids my petals shall express to thee 

Her earnest wish in language eloquent. 

Each wafting leaf bespeaks a sweet " good-bye," 
Each blossom breathes a hearty " safe return," 

Each tint so delicate betokens nigh, 

The blessings for which truest friendships yearn. 

Make me thy guest, and in companions' stead, 

I'll bear my little part in woe or weal ; 

Glad in thy joy to lift my perfumed head, 

Or droop in sympathy if sadness steal. 



BEING HIGH WATER MARKS. 3 

Let us not part, for when sweet thoughts arise 

Of all the loved and waiting ones at home, 
Through me the Father's smiles shall bless thine eyes, 

And prove His care wherever thou dost roam. 

On peaceful lake, or by the mountain's side, 

As silent witness of thy hopes I'd be, 
And when thy journey's ended, still abide, 

To tint the pages of thy memory. s 

Dr. N. K. Bennett had written farewell words wthich, however, 
had not yet reached me, but came later over the -sea. Some of 
them ran thus : 

hand of God ! O gift of peace 
And promise to my soul ! 

Though weak, and tossed, and ill at ease, 
Amid the swell of smiting seas — 
The ship's convulsive roll ; 

1 own with love and tender awe, 
The perfect reign of faith and law. 

A heavenly trust my spirit calms, 

My soul is filled with light ; 
The ocean sings his solemn psalms, 
The wild winds chant : I cross my palms, 

Happy as if to-night, 
Under the cottage roof, again 
I hear the soothing summer rain. 

The time seemed peculiarly calculated for reminiscences in 
which faces long parted rose to the mind's eye. We all took 
rather naturally to the iceberg which appeared in view : and the 
whales that were reported alongside produced but little excite- 
ment on board. We had few surprises of any kind. One of these 
I afforded to Mrs. E., by absenting myself one evening in order to 
attend a preaching service in the steerage, where I heard a good 
sermon from an earnest " fisher of men," named Whiteside. The 
narrow, crowded benches were rather uncomfortable, but the au- 
dience was very attentive, and the hymns were heartily sung. I 
especially enjoyed the one beginning, ' ' When all Thy mercies, 
O my God!" 

For several days the weather was very calm, but there came a 
day when the " watery waste " was agitated into hills and valleys, 
where patches of foam shone like snow on a wintry landscape. 
And these hills and valleys were rocking and upheaving like the 
fields of Ischia throbbing with volcanic energy. Then came 
something of enthusiasm, as the finger of Revelation pointed to 
the great object-lesson before the traveller's eye, saying : " The 
earth shall be filled with the knowledge of the glory of the Lord, 
as the waters cover the sea." But enthusiasm is not at our com- 
mand. Sublime experiences are like the glory of the heavenly 
spheres. We may gain counterfeit representations of these spheres 
by enkindling sparks, when the heavens are veiled, or we may hide 



4 WAYMARKS. 

from the stars when they come forth ; but we cannot make them 
obey us. So of these experiences. We may so surround our 
hearts with vanities as to render them rare ; or we may come into 
such situations voluntarily, as shall render them probable. But 
we cannot control them. Could men buy poetic moods, how soon 
would there be a monopoly of ecstatic thought ! But let us re- 
joice that heaven has gifts of idea, too precious to be the products 
of our lowly wills. The riches of a kingdom cannot prirchase for 
it one national ode. The songs of nations — those favorite ones in 
which they love to voice their patriotism, flash through the souls 
of their poets like beams from opening heavens, surprising as they 
fall. 



CHAPTER II. 

BEING PARTLY CHALK MARKS. 



These chalk marks were made on our baggage at the Custom 
House in Liverpool after the sea was safely passed. It was strange 
how glad we were to get them, and what a sense of relief they 
gave, after our long waiting among the crowd. While nearing 
Britain I had watched the clouds one day, fancying I could see 
colossal figures of birds, beasts, and men in the sky, with British 
lions posing among them. We had seen a headland off the coast 
of Wales close at hand — Wales, land of long names, land of hoary 
harpers, land of stern scenery and stiff principles, and thus fitted 
to be a land of eloquent preachers and brave martyrs. On Sunday 
night, July 1, we saw through rain and darkness, the lights of 
Queenstown, Ireland, as we stopped for a few hours in its harbor. 
Monday we cast anchor off the coast of England, and took the tug, 
which conveyed us past the fine suburbs and grand docks of Liver- 
pool to our landing place in that substantial city. The lion was 
now no longer among the clouds, but was roaring from behind his 
constitutional bars. Our ship stood lonely in the offing, deserted by 
all except her seamen. The groups which had so often gathered on 
her decks were dispersing forever. The bride-elect of the bishop 
of one of the Sandwich Islands, with her friends, the party of 
" Vassar girls " who had inquired into navigation's mysteries during 
the voyage ; the young learners in the school of gambling, whose 
sessions had been held in the smoking-room ; the pretty children ; 
the distinguished General and reserved advocate, were going 
their several ways. Even the four prairie-dogs, whereof one had 
proved by his quarrelsome disposition on shipboard that there is 
a difference in prairie-dog natures, had already disappeared. The 
bewildering matter of arranging pounds, shillings, and pence with 
cabmen and porters began in earnest. We spent a night at the 
Adelphi Hotel. Pleasant it was to sleep in an airy chamber, to 



BEING PARTLY CHALK MARKS. 5 

whose chintz-curtained bedstead, furnished with snowy English 
linen, a pretty maid, with a neat cap, brought in the morning a re- 
freshing cup of tea. We took a late breakfast in a fine pillared 
hall, and went forth to wrestle with the European baggage system. 

First. Took a cab for the Custom House, where a state-room 
trunk had been left by mistake ; rode long through the busy streets 
in search of the American Exchange, which did not exist at that 
time in Liverpool ; then returned to the Lime Street Station, 
where, after various officious porters had been shaken off, the 
state-room trunk was entrusted hastily to a baggage man, who 
said he would take it to the Exchange, which was only a short way 
off; result — it was never heard from again. 

Secondly. Found that Mrs. E. had mistaken my largest trunk 
for a very extensive box belonging to a lady much grieved by the 
error. This had to be explained and a descent undertaken to the 
cellar of the baggage department in an elevator, in order to iden- 
tify my own property. 

Finally. We were glad to rest in a car of the Northwestern Bail- 
way, bound for London. We travelled through a pleasant and 
picturesque country. There were busy towns, with peaceful rural 
lands interspersed, where gardens and orchards, divided by hedge- 
rows, surrounded flower-bordered cottages. The scenery re- 
minded me of English poetry, much of which is calm, pure, and 
elevating in its character, fitted to beguile eventide hours in the 
homes that border the lanes of England, when village chimes 
have sounded twilight refrains, and larks are hovering their little 
ones on green boughs that overhang the meadows. And, by the 
way, I caught a clear bird song, once during that journey to Lon- 
don. 

We stopped at Kugby for just a few moments, but thought more 
of lunch than the associations connected with its name. We did 
not stop to talk of Dr. Arnold, or to solve the question whether his 
son Matthew is a constructionist, or rather a critic of other men's 
fabrics of idea ; whether his mind is a guiding lamp, shedding safe 
beams from the advantageous elevation on which his birth placed 
him, or if it is more like a file which reduces the quantity of 
what was thought to be of solid value in the works of other minds 
and leaves a surprising amount of filings for the wind to scatter. 
We did not talk this matter over at all, and probably should not 
have known just what to say about it, if we had. 

It is strange how the anxieties over the comforts of the hour, the 
details of the way, and especially the baggage, will often engross 
the mind of the new traveller so as to prevent the apj)reciation of 
lovely scenes and rich associations ; though, of course, this does 
not prevent their coming with the retrospect. The wear and worry 
over baggage might be called baggagia. It is a malady from which 
I have suffered much, though my conscience is clear of having in- 
flicted it on others while in Europe. It was quite comical, as well 
as serious, to watch some delicate ladies travelling for rest and 



6 WAYMARKS. 

health, who carried about an amount of weight in luggage from 
which they would have recoiled if it were in any other shape. It 
must be pulled past fellow-passengers, and thrust on to car seats, 
or lifted at arm's length into the racks overhead. Of course in 
some places there are porters who will assist at a small price, and 
for this one needs a plenty of change handy. But there are also 
changes of place to be made suddenly, when no porter is at hand. 
Sometimes gentlemen will kindly volunteer their aid, but these 
beings, so courteous when at home, are usually well weighed down 
with their own luggage when travelling abroad. So a lady had best 
register all things possible. Even then she will find what she 
feels obliged to take with her very much like the ball and chain 
with which criminals are said to be sometimes fettered while at 
their tasks. 

All this about baggage and not at London yet ! But then bag- 
gage means a great deal sometimes, and usually far more than it 
need to. For we ought, in the first place, to leave it mostly stored 
away at home, or give it to those who need before we start on a 
journey. 



CHAPTER III. 

INCLUDING SOME UPON THE SCULPTURED URN. 

Mrs. R. left the train about forty miles short of London ; 
so it was my lot to enter that greatest of all cities alone. Tak- 
ing a cab, I called at Gillig's American Exchange, to make in- 
quiries which resulted in a decision to ensconce myself in a 
boarding place near that very central position for sight-seeing — 
Charing Cross ; or, as it was originally called, in honor of the 
resting place of the bier of a beloved Queen — " Chere Reine " 
Cross. The hostess was a kind, intelligent American lady, in love 
with her native land, its customs and people. She was just the 
person to befriend and counsel a stray traveller like her who so 
readily accepted the one small room she had to spare. This room 
was very high up among the chimney-tops, in a house whose gray 
walls were probably two hundred years old, and looked down on a 
portion of London somewhat remarkably associated with notable 
lives of the past. In the same street Charles Dickens had lived ; 
close at hand was the Adelphi Hotel, with which he was familiar. 
In a street very near, Peter the Great had resided for a time, close 
beside the Thames that flows, as then, between its bushy banks, 
though " Men may come and men may go." Trafalgar Square was 
not far off; while a few steps would bring one to the brilliant 
Strand, where the cries of omnibus conductors rang out in most 
matter-of-fact tones, the magic words, "Piccadilly!" "The 
Bank ! To the Bank ! " etc.— just as though the Bank of England 



INCLUDING SOME UPON THE SCULPTURED URN. 7 

and Piccadilly were most commonplace locations. They little 
knew the enchantment that distance and history had thrown around 
the most ordinary names of London streets to an American mind. 
Indeed the chimney-pots on which my high window looked, had a 
kind of classical appearance to my eyes, and it was something to 
have a London cat take the pains to steal in at the casement every 
time it was left wide open. London cats are fed on meat brought 
around expressly for them, fixed on skewers and sold by venders 
whose welcome cry is well understood by their dumb friends. 

It is no disloyalty to republican institutions, I trust, to say that of 
all days in the year when I am at home, the Fourth of July is least 
desirable to me, because of the atrociously noisy manner in which it 
is observed in the United States. It seemed a choice way of celebrat- 
ing this day, however, to visit Westminster Abbey, where the memory 
of all great achievements in human history should not be ranked out 
of place. It adds greatly to the interest of human life, as well as to 
the importance of each individual mind, that we see all the world's 
wonders differently, so that it is not presumptuous in any one to 
give their own peculiar impressions of objects which have drawn 
forth the eloquence of the most gifted souls from century to 
century. After a short morning visit to Hyde Park, I took an 
omnibus going to that famous corner of the city known as White- 
hall, where many scenes in English royal life succeeded each other 
with most striking contrasts of light and shade in the days of 
Charles I. and Charles II., and later on in the days of many succeed- 
ing monarchs. I rode out near the Parliament Buildings, and 
passing the church of St. Margaret, entered Westminster Abbey at 
its main portal. There was a seat in the corner near the door 
which afforded an excellent place for rest and meditation, unbroken 
by the hushed footfalls that passed slowly up the pavement, 
rendered sacred by memorials of those who "made their lives sub- 
lime." A mountain top of life's pilgrim path seemed to afford here 
a solemn outlook on the past of human attainment, according to 
the traveller's limited power of vision. It was a point from which 
to reconnoitre the ways of human life, to take observations for the 
course beyond — a place for humble thoughts, and yet a place for 
aspiring hopes. 

I soon found the statue of Wordsworth near the entrance at the 
right, and then passed on from name to name of the " illustrious 
dead." I sat down again, at length, beneath the bust of Dr. Isaac 
Watts, who is, however, buried in Bunhill Fields, and near the 
memorials of the brothers John and Charles Wesley. There I 
repeated to myself Dr. Watts' hymn endeared to me by very ten- 
der associations, as well as by its deep significance, beginning with 
the lines : 

41 What sinners value I resign ; 
Lord, 'tis enough that Thou art mine, 
I shall behold Thy blissful face, 
And stand complete in righteousness." 



* 



8 WAYMARKS. 

The pavement of the Abbey is engraved with many names, among 
which one is startled at the words : " O rare Ben Jonson ! " The 
name of Charles Darwin suggests some thoughts incongruous with 
the glorious allusions to immortality all around one there, such as 
that on a scroll in the hand of a life-sized statue of that monarch 
in the realm of music, Handel, composer of the oratorio of the 
Messiah — " I know that my Redeemer liveth ! " 

On the pavement, too, in letters one dreads to see effaced by 
the feet of crowds, is the name of Charles Dickens, interpreter of 
the great city's mysteries. How lately was he transferred from 
the busy scenes without this hallowed place, the tide of sympathy 
with humble and suffering humanity still vigorous in his strong, 
yet sensitive heart. The song of his spirit seems echoing among 
the lanes and corners of London, translating their motley tones 
into music often plaintive and touching, and sometimes merry, 
sometimes grand. 

I do not recall the mention of any woman on the marble rolls of 
Westminster Abbey, because of the gifts of genius. Not even Mrs. 
Browning has a name in the "Poet's Corner," so that one scarcely 
feels impelled to cry, as did Madam de Stael to the Italians, " 
vous nation liberate! qui ne bannessez point les femmes de son 
temple" (O liberal nation! which banishes not women from its 
temple.) But, never mind ! when the British people discover a fe- 
male Shakespeare, it will be time to erect an other Abbey, no doubt. 
Standing before his statue, whose hand grasps so appropriately 
his prophecy of the dissolution of the earth and all its structures, 
I considered the influence of Shakespeare's mind upon his fellow- 
creatnres to the present time. It is strange what voices he has 
furnished for humanity, and what a void would be left if all he 
said were forgotten. 

There is another poet, whom at first we should hardly think of 
calling great, but whose master-piece, quiet, simple and brief, 
seems now essential to the English tongue — especially amid the 
"long-drawn aisles and fretted vaults " of Westminster, where 
vainly does "Honor's voice" attempt to "provoke the silent 
dust ; " while we honor all bards, from Chaucer down, we uncon- 
sciously pay to Gray the tribute of being the Poet of the place. 

The military and naval heroes, whose ashes have memorials in 
the Abbey, usually seem much less noticed by visitors than are 
those who sang their deeds, or expressed the universal experi- 
ences of mankind. In the afternoon I attended in the Abbey a 
service of the English Church. There was much of form and 
ceremony observed, while solemn words were so painfully mut- 
tered as to be very indistinct ; but there was some reading of 
Scripture in a becoming manner. I left the place knowing that 
for that time, my scrutiny of the memorials of Newton and Cobden, 
of Dryden and Pope and other great names had been superficial 
indeed ; but glad that I had been permitted to gain even such 
slight glimpses of the treasures beneath its ancient towers of 



OLD LANDMARKS ON THE BANKS OF THE THAMES. 

beauty. Even there, to my mind, while for the first time in life, 
surrounded by architecture at once ancient, imposing, and power- 
fully historic, the power of man seemed small, and the scope of 
his empire limited indeed. There was enough there, it is true, to 
prove the value of noble striving, because of man's alliance with 
the Divine purposes, and because "things are not what they 
seem." But "the Kingdom, and the Power and the Glory" are 
"not unto us." 



CHAPTER IV. 

COMPRISING CERTAIN OLD LANDMARKS ON THE BANKS OF THE THAMES. 

The multitude of imposing buildings, whose pillared porticoes 
and symmetrical sides are shaded like an India ink sketch, from 
pale gray almost to black, by the action of time under the smoky 
atmosphere of London, surprises the traveller from the western 
world, where time-darkened edifices of strength are few. 

Stately ornate churches and monuments of universal interest 
look down on commonplace scenes, where crowds pass intent on 
every-day pursuits, without even a glance at what seems to us so 
rare. Much buying and selling goes on in St. Paul's Churchyard. 
I reminded a brush merchant there of the noble shadow in which 
he dwelt, when he at once inquired if I would not like to buy 
more of his brushes. But though the Londoners may seem uncon- 
scious of St. Paul's grandeur, they would be inconsolable were 
that wonderful pile to be destroyed. I first entered its precincts 
during an afternoon service. The music of the organ rose very 
sweetly toward the expansive dome. But why that rapid mum- 
bling of solemn words, the utterance of which should be specially 
emphasized in such an appropriate place ? I observed a punctilious 
attention to robes and ceremonies, while the truth from heaven 
was most indifferently expressed. 

I wandered there for some time after the service was ended, 
viewing the statues and memorial tributes of the place, or gazing 
far upward to the apex of the dome. The sound of a workman's 
hammer was prolonged in rolling tones which resembled the noise 
of sea-waves when we listen on the shore, or the voice of winds 
among trees on mountain heights. The similarity of all these 
sounds led me anew to feel that nature's praise-tones agree not 
only with each other, but with the echoes heard in the sublimest 
structures of the hand of man. What a day that would be, when 
from a multitude filling the aisles and chapels of the great Cathe- 
dral, there should rise a song of praise, " like the sound of many 
waters," from those who should sing with the "spirit and with 
the understanding" to "Him which is and was and is to come!" 
Solemnlv under the shadows and under the sunshine, while 



1 WAYMAEKS. 

thoughtless crowds go by, seeking rest and joy where it never can 
be found, the great Cathedral waits in all its suggestive nobleness 
and beauty for such a golden hour ! But its empty spaces re- 
mind us of the sublime scope of the liturgy of the English 
Church, whose indistinct intonings are now often destitute of life 
and power. That this is so, is perhaps by none more regretted 
than by its devout members, who mourn the rise of formalism, 
against their most cherished convictions. Sir Christopher Wren 
was the architect of that church looking on Trafalgar Square, 
called St. Martin's-in-the-Fields, "and whose rector is still curiously 
called a "rural rector." And it is that quaint blending of past 
with present, of old customs and names with new ones, which 
makes much of London's attractiveness to travellers who see it for 
the first time. Just off some crowded thoroughfare, one will sud- 
denly come into some quiet precinct, with its ivied church and 
ancient burial-ground that seems appropriate to a country village 
rather than to the world's most crowded city. As we tread our 
way from point to point renowned in history, we are interested in 
reading familiar names at the entrances both of imposing streets 
and lanes of insignificant aspect. We do not wonder so much at 
that wheelbarrow story about the streets being so wide and the 
lanes so narrow. 

But the prevalence of sin and misery fills the heart with unutter- 
able yearning there, where now, their characters are fresh as we 
may think they seemed in the early time of Babel. 

One day I took the underground railway for a short ride, but 
was glad to escape from its close atmosphere at the Mansion 
House Station. The way from there was nearly straight to the 
Tower. Here feudal scenes seemed revived, and the appearance 
of the place was grander than imagination pictured it. As I passed 
through its gloomy labyrinths, something of terror crept over my 
mind. Some of these are no longer shown to visitors, I hear, and 
thus many evidences of past tyranny are allowed to be forgotten. 
Perhaps this is as well, and yet it may also be well that much re- 
mains in the Tower to remind us how mercy has advanced in the 
earth since the days when thumb-screws, racks, and oubliette- 
knives were quite the fashion. 

In Beauchamp Tower I stood a moment in the den of stone in 
which Anne Boleyn spent the last night of her life. A gentleman 
present spoke of the disgust he felt at cruelties formerly practised 
in that and other jjolitical prisons. We recalled Lady Jane Grey, 
who had seen her husband led out to be executed, watching him 
from the window of her room above us. Seeing a cross carved on 
the wall by some prisoner, I ventured to point to it as an emblem 
of what had sustained those who once suffered there, ere they 
passed beyond. "They did not pass beyond," exclaimed the gen- 
tleman, thus showing that he was keeping his soul in a closer prison 
than the cell of Anne Boleyn: As we passed out and separated, I 
did as it is said women like to do — had the last word. 



OLD LANDMARKS ON THE BANKS OF THE THAMES. 11 

Standing on the place of Anne Boleyn's beheading, I tried to 
picture a little of the scene. Those tokens of conquest, triumph, 
and possession — the crown-jewels and sceptres of the Empire have 
a great value beyond their material worth, as tokens of the " crown 
of life," and the' enduring treasures promised to those overcoming 
souls who shall be " kings and priests unto God." 

In the armories we were carried back to the romantic days of 
chivalry, celebrated in Scottish song and story. They must have 
been strong — both horses and riders — who could have borne some 
of those armors through a battle. Probably those warriors did 
not expend their energies on scientific researches or questions of 
philosophy ; but they were keen-eyed and athletic, at ease upon a 
fiery steed, and at home in wild forest paths and by rushing moun- 
tain torrents. Those armors, carefully arranged as in battle array, 
finely illustrated Paul's figure of the whole armor of God (Eph. 
6 : 11-17). 

From the Tower gates, past Billingsgate to London Bridge, 
the way was not long. A Thames steamboat gliding from this 
bridge bore me on past noble edifices and cultured grounds and 
under many fine piers to Charing Cross landing. A short distance 
from this place I caught sight of the Egyptian Obelisk on the 
river-bank, and hastening near it, I spent some time gazing on its 
mysterious signs and reading its modern inscriptions. The 
Spinxes which keep guard, as it were, on either side, are like 
the "new jugs," over which Artemus Ward refuses to weep 
(though he can "cry like a child over old jugs"), rather mod- 
ern to call forth emotion ; but the ancient shaft is indeed impres- 
sive, rising like the genius of old Egypt to survey British civiliza- 
tion, with the dome of St. Paul's on the one hand against the sky, 
and the towers of "Westminster Abbey and the Parliament Houses 
on the other. 

In the evening of the day before I left England, my hostess 
conducted me to the Strand, where beneath the "Lights o' Lon- 
don " she pointed out Exeter Hall, the new law courts which were 
opened by the Queen in person, and other places of interest. I 
was glad to stand where the sovereigns of England were ceremo- 
niously welcomed to London, at what was once a noted point in 
the boundary of the city, Temple Bar. A fine memorial structure 
has been reared on the site of the departed Bar, which is rich in 
bas-reliefs, and has on one side a statue of Victoria, and on the 
opposite a statue of the Prince of Wales. On the top is what is 
called a Dragon. At first it seemed quite out of place to set a 
dragon so high, but when one learns how vice goes shod in brass 
along that glittering Strand, it seems quite fitting to see him in a 
place of triumph. But " sin is a reproach to any people," and if 
unchecked, is ominous of a nation's decay. It is well there is in 
London much salt that has not lost its savor. 



1 2 WAYMAKKS. 

CHAPTEE V. 

AND BOUNDARY LINES. 

I left the great metropolis by an early morning train for New- 
haven, from which place a tranquil voyage across the English 
Channel, in company with some American acquaintances, brought 
me to Dieppe. There we took a train for Paris. 

At Rouen we had not time to search for the market-place, where 
the Maid of Orleans was rewarded, in a way quite common a few 
centuries ago, toward the people's friends, by being burned at the 
stake. 

The scenery from Dieppe to Paris was so pretty on that Juno 
day, that it seemed very natural to call the country La Belle 
France. Sloping fields divided into parallelograms of various colors 
indicating different kinds of growing grain, made the farming 
regions look like gay parterres in distance. The marks of thorough 
cultivation and economical use of land seemed strange to eyes 
accustomed to waste and neglected pastures. Tall, straight, Nor- 
mandy poplars scattered through the landscape, looked like sen- 
tinels, with very snug uniforms and very slender frames. I 
admired the flowery regions ; yet its farm-houses and even its 
foliage were a little strange. The language of the wild blossoms 
flecking its turf, like that of the peasants, had a foreign accent. 

At the Paris station I parted with the last familiar face, after 
having my way made clear to the Paris, Lyons, and Mediterranean 
depot. At the latter place, there was every facility for trying that 
quality whose exercise is so coveted by most people at some time 
in their history — independence. There was no one to interfere 
with the arrangements of baggage, the buying of tickets, the ex- 
ploration of the buffet, or the long looking for the right train to 
Montreux in Switzerland. There was a chance to hold opinions 
and carry them out. Many a woman sighs for this experience. 
She can have it by exploring foreign lines of travel alone. I was 
very glad, however, after a long season of anxious waiting, as I was 
about to enter a ladies' coupe on the train going toward Switzer- 
land, to hear an English lady who was sitting in it, say, " Are you 
going to Montreux ? I am so glad ; I do not want to go alone." 
There was no one in the coupe except the lady and her maid, who 
was to ride a part of the way in a carriage of another class ; so we 
two had abundant room in which to make ourselves comfortable. 
The lady spoke French fluently, and being used to the way, proved 
a pleasant guide as well as companion, helping me out of perplexi- 
ties. 

Dawn found us really near the mountains, and the full morn- 
ing light revealed very grand prospects. At Lausanne, where we 
stopped awhile, the English lady pointed out the Jura. Not long 
after, we entered Montreux, where I was kindlv welcomed to the 



AND BOUNDARY LINES. 13 

home of Mile. Z. and her good mother. They told me that our 
mutual friend, Dr. Y., had written, requesting that I might "lack 
nothing for my comfort." Madame Z. poured tea for me in their 
pleasant parlor, which was full of evidences of refined taste, and 
overlooked a section of Lake Geneva, with the snowy peaks of the 
Dent du Midi, and the rugged sides of the Alps of Savoy beyond 
its waters. After discussing plans with Mademoiselle, I decided to 
board at Pension Visinand, which was near her residence. There I 
secured a delightful room, whose deep windows gave fine lake and 
mountain views, and whose interior was rather home-like, even 
though there was a high porcelain stove, and a down cushion for 
a bed covering by way of novelties. At evening I walked with 
Mademoiselle to the churchyard of the National Church, where 
amid rustic seats and ivied shades, one is always free to enter and 
remain. This lovely church stands high up on the sideof the moun- 
tain, that o'erhangs the town. On one of the peaks of this mountain 
or mountain range, is Glion, a lofty summer resort for travellers and 
health-seekers, to which an inclined railway now leads with a grade 
of dizzy steepness not far from the Castle of Chillon, which is most 
picturesquely situated on the shore of the lake, or rather divided 
from it by a moat. In the midst of the town and below the heights 
of Glion, is a wild and terrible gorge cleaving the great hills, be- 
tween whose cavernous sides run the swift torrents of the Chau- 
dron to empty themselves into the lake. From its bridge, asone 
fronts Lake Geneva, one sees the tiled-roofed houses, tier after tier, 
sloping down the steep hill-sides, or scattered above and below, as 
they approach the outskirts of Montreux where vineyards begin to 
mantle the rugged cliffs with their green tapestries. Far to the 
right is the old castle of Crete, and still beyond, but nearer the 
lake, is the new castle of Chatelard, where Gambetta used to retire 
from more crowded scenes. I was told that his manners were very 
unostentatious. , 

Walled in by mountains, rendered charming by the changeful 
beauty of Lake Geneva, or Leman, as well as by a rare combina- 
tion of varied and picturesque situations, Montreux has become 
a favorite resort for those of other lands who seek the benefit of 
her vineyards in autumn, or the influence of her mild, yet bracing 
winter climate. The " grape-cure " is a delightful mode of heal- 
ing, now recommended to invalids, and consists, as far as I learned, 
of eating a large quantity of fresh grapes daily. If this is really all 
the prescription, who would not like to try it, whether sick or well, 
especially at one of the fine hotels or neat pensions of beautiful 
Montreux ? 



14 WAYMARKS. 

CHAPTEE VI. 

REFLECTIONS IN SOLITARY PLACES. 

Sickness came to Madame Z., and brought care and anxiety to 
her devoted daughter during the rest of the summer. So Mad- 
emoiselle and .Sola could only meet now and then over their coffee ; 
or in a short walk, during the two weeks in which Sola waited at 
Montreux before deciding that if she was to see the mountains, 
toward which her chief expectation had long tended, she must 
relinquish the hope of Mademoiselle's company, and start forth 
alone. 

In the mean time, letters were delayed unaccountably, ard all 
the boarders left Pension Visinand, except some Eussians and 
herself. Moore's lines : 

" O who would inhabit this bleak world alone ? " 

came often to mind. 

But if we cannot change a situation that is not our choice, it is 
well to remember that it must have some advantages peculiar to 
itself, and avail ourselves of these as cheerfully as possible. 

Sola could now, like Lord Byron, "mingle with the universe." 
The universe is a little too roomy for one human being to feel " at 
home " in, without society, ordinarily. Still if one can feel that 
one is faithfully doing an assigned part, and can constantly com- 
municate with Headquarters, the Universe is no dungeon, but more 
like a palace on a grand scale. 

One has got to seem rather egotistical when representing im- 
pressions and experiences in which no companion had a share. 
We have then to abandon that modest, unpretending, irresponsible, 
though often untruthful pronoun We, and take up the conspicuous, 
unsheltered pronoun I. So our pen must be forgiven for darting 
along in a sulky, over a road sometimes rough, when it would be 
pleased to dash imposingly along a macadamized boulevard, with a 
coach drawn by two and full of friends. 

It was I who went vainly to the closed doors of the Presbyterian 
and German Lutheran Churches, on my first Sunday in Switzer- 
land. However, I made sure of hearing an excellent sermon at the 
English Episcopal Church, on the words, " He was a thief, and had 
the bag, and bare what was put therein." The preacher taught 
that Judas had a part to fill which tested his coveteous nature ; 
yet he had the great advantage of being with Christ, to offset his 
temptation. On coming out of church, I stopped in the pretty 
churchyard adjoining, and enjoyed the testimonials to an immortal 
hope upon the burial tablets, sometimes very simply expressed, as 
in the words Au revoir. 

Pension Visinand is one of the oldest boarding places at Mon- 



REFLECTIONS IN SOLITARY PLACES. 15 

treux. It is large, quiet, and very well kept. Lord Byron was 
once its guest ; and the room lie occupied with the desk which 
was part of its furniture when he looked from its windows on the 
lake he loved so w T ell, was shown me one day by the landlord's 
sister. It is a tradition at Visinand, that the master of the house 
remonstrated with the poet for casting himself on a sofa with 
muddy boots, and received the reply in reference to the mud : "It 
is only on the outside." 

Lord Byron's soul, misguided, but magnificently endowed, has 
left that spell which genius ever casts over the scenes it celebrates, 
on the Castle of Chillon, and the waters of Lake Leman that 
wash its ancient walls. I visited Chillon on a sunny day, when 
delicate wild-flowers were smiling up at the bare cliffs that rise 
before it, and fresh, rich foliage curtained the sides of the cruel 
moat that once separated the languishing captive from his moun- 
tain land. I entered the castle with a party of tourists to whom 
the guide addressed rapid explanations in French, as we passed 
from point to point. From an inner court-yard, we looked up at 
the square tower of Charlemagne's time. We passed into the 
reception hall, the chambers of the Duke and Duchess of Savoy 
(who reigned here during the thirteenth century), the chapel, and 
the hail of the seat of justice, from which a staircase leads to the 
prisons below. In these low prisons, we saw the pillar and foot- 
worn stone floor, famous as the place where the chained Bonnivard, 
the prisoner of Chillon, spent his years of captivity. Not far off 
was the beam from which Jew r s were hung, and also a place of 
torture, from which captives w T ere taken and thrown down a hor- 
rible pit into the arms of a machine whose knives cut them in 
pieces. A trap-door then opened to receive them still further into 
the subterranean darkness of Les Oubliettes, or the places of the 
forgotten. 

When the events of the day were past, and the scenes of Chillon 
were recalled, I could almost see again the opening of that pit of 
Les Oubliettes. But these words came also to mind : "There is 
nothing covered, that shall not be revealed." 

Slowly, but surely, too, human freedom advances. Over Chil- 
lon's " dark places," once full of the habitations of cruelty, waves 
the flag of Helvetia ; and Geneva has long been free. Switzer- 
land sits unfettered on her mountain throne. No despot aspires 
to j)ass her natural bulwarks, and spread his sceptre above her 
beautiful lakes. Her danger is more subtle. Her mountains are 
becoming pleasure parks for the civilized nations. The idlers of 
many lands, and the rest-takers in their vacation days, afford ex- 
amples of careless indulgence, which would be severe tests for the 
energy and integrity of any people. Ordinary industries and quiet 
domestic life are liable to lose their sway over a province which be- 
comes largely like a grand hotel. May Switzerland be alert to all 
which threatens to enervate her brave children, and may they long 
preserve those virtues that alone merit and maintain liberty. 



16 WAYMARKS, 

May her verdict for religious faith, once so strong, still ring clearly 
amid the " confusion of tongues " within her borders, as the sweet 
notes of her Alpine horn wind and re-echo among those natural 
fastnesses which no Gessler now has power to control. 



CHAPTER VII. 

BY WAYSIDE FOUNTAINS. 



Although so many of the hill-sides of Europe are rich in vine- 
yards, producing, doubtless, most delicious wines, it would have 
been strange if God, who "waters the hills from his chambers," 
had made the springs which sparkle among her mountains to con- 
tain poisonous qualities. Yet I had been told that it would be 
not only unusual, but unhealthy to drink water instead of wine, in 
Europe. Judging from what one sees on board the ocean steamers, 
and at hotel tables, American tourists run little risk of being in- 
jured by the waters of foreign lands. Yet now and then there are 
those among them, who resolutely abstain from wine and beer. 
Some one, too, was bold enough to tell me that the danger of 
sickness in many cases arises from overeating and the like dis- 
regard of the laws of hygiene. An American lady living in Eng- 
land, disgusted with its beer drinking among women, assured me 
that she found no difficulty in drinking water while travelling, 
even down to Italy. I had supplied myself with one of Richard- 
son's volumes on alcohol, as reading matter for the sea-voyage, in 
spite of friendly advice to amuse myself with a volume of William 
Black instead. Fortified by the learned opinions of Dr. Richard- 
son, and remembering that the land " I left behind me " is 
languishing under the effects of strong drink, I ventured to run 
the terrible risk of total abstinence. Hence my humble witness 
goes to prove that it is possible to pass through many lands with- 
out tasting their intoxicating beverages, and live to return. It 
was usually convenient to procure excellent tea, coffee, and milk, 
as well as clear cold water, at any public table. 

And by the way, while the effects of drinking seemed less 
marked among the people of Europe than among ours, and while 
there is not that recklessness in the matter there, which is found 
in our new land, where ideas of liberty are carried to an absurd 
issue, the evils of alcoholism seem on the increase there, especi- 
ally in Switzerland. Some are alarmed and are taking the stand 
of abstinence. 

Was it that I was so fresh from the study of Richardson that its 
pages still left an impress on the retina, or was it true that in 
wine and beer drinking communities I saw frequent evidence of 
bloated and deteriorated tissues, and even stolidity and slowness 
of apprehension among respectable classes, who did not dream of 



BY WAYSIDE FOUNTAINS. 17 

being injured by their mild but common alcoholic draughts. Well, 
truth will come to the light on some golden day, and righteous- 
ness prevail in the earth. Even headstrong "young America 1 ' 
might, if she would, discern a tiny cloud ominous of purification in 
her horizon. It would be ludicrous, were it not serious, to ob- 
serve how obstinately strong political parties ignore the "signs 
of the times " concerning principles which, like the thunder in 
a gathering storm, soon must and will be heard. 

I noticed in my walks about Montreux that there w T ere many way- 
side fountains gurgling forth from the hills. There was one of 
these in front of Pension Visinand falling into an ample basin 
with a lulling music which never ceased. 

Not far from the front porch, was an enclosed garden with seats 
embowered by thick foliage. In this quiet retreat I sometimes 
shared the charms of solitude with a harmless snail or two, whose 
movements, when carefully considered, impressed me that even a 
snail has purposes in view, whenever he puts forth his slow efforts. 
He has at least his marketing to do, and cannot spend all the sum- 
mer hours curled up in his shell. Neither could Sola spend all her 
time dreaming over Walter Scott's " Redgauntlet," or extracting 
old melodies from the piano in the salon. She must look about 
her, study the Swiss map and venture out erelong into new regions. 

On my second Sunday at Montreux, I attended the French 
National Church. The sermon was an earnest one on the Chris- 
tian hope. All the prayers, so far as I noticed, were read by the 
pastor, as well as the creed and ten commandments. The hymns 
were grand, and well and solemnly sung by the congregation. It 
seemed strange at first, to hear the usually silent " e " of French 
words pronounced in singing. I refer to the unaccented final " e." 

The next Sunday I went to the German Lutheran church, and 
heard a sermon in which Christian life was finely compared to a sea 
voyage. Thus Montreux seems quite favored with Protestant reli- 
gious teachers. The Eomanists are now building a large church 
there. 

The hamlet of Glion, on the mountain heights above Montreux, 
must be a most delightful resort in the warmest months. I 
walked there one afternoon, and found the excursion a wild and 
exciting one. Up and on toward the clouds the way wound, till 
town and vineyard slopes were far below. But when I had 
reached that which I had looked up to as a crowning height 
from which the green range beyond should be overlooked, I 
found new eminences still rising on the near perspective, and 
shutting out the distant view. Much was revealed ; yet the new 
revelations suggested new regions to be explored. So it is among 
mountains. We think of them first, if we have only been familiar 
with lower lands, as peaks of definite size and outline. If we are 
fond of ocean views, we first miss, among the high mountains, the 
roll and dash of waves against the shore, the sparkle and foam of 
the restless billows that respond to each breath of the change- 
2 



1 8 W AYMARKS. 

ful winds. We think the hills monotonous ; but if we dwell 
among them, we find their aspects varying with every change of 
our own position, as well as every turn of the weather, or move- 
ment of the greater or lesser lights that rule the day and night. 
Emblems of unchangeable truths are these mountains. No single 
view can represent them, no single foot explore them. Mists hide 
them, yet they are still firm. They are too vast to be monopolized, 
too solid to be undermined. 

The day was wearing to a close, and rain began to descend, as I 
hurried down the road from Glion. Two large crows flew from 
tree-tops above my head as I pressed on my desolate pathway. 
They seemed most appropriate to the place — weird, sombre, like 
dark genii of wooded cliffs. Here and there I met a traveller, in 
whose presence I did not care to linger. It was pleasant to pass 
down on to the pavements of Montreux, and calling at Maison F., 
recount to Mademoiselle Z. the story of the day. 

One of the most interesting of my walks about Montreux was 
that in the cemetery of Clarens, which is distinguished for its 
lovely situation, and as being the last resting place of the strangers 
from many distant lands, who have come seeking health and found 
death instead. The burial inscriptions are in various languages, 
and some of them are quite touching. On the tombstone of a 
Scotch child were these words, evidently his own : " Papa, sing Je- 
sus loves me." I saw there were sleepers at Clarens from Boston, 
New York, Chicago, and New Orleans, and probably careful re- 
search would have revealed others from America. 

In my rambles, I observed a close likeness between many of the 
wild flowers of Switzerland, and those of New England. I think 
the former are the most delicate. Sometimes the color is not the 
same. In Switzerland yarrow is pink, instead of being white, as 
in New England. But often the weeds would look up from Swiss 
soil with familiar aspects, reminding me of those which used to 
spring up in waysides of Connecticut, and along the garden paths 
in which my childish feet wandered. There are parts of the 
White Mountain region closely resembling a Swiss landscape. It 
is not hard to think that Roger Williams and Elder William Brew- 
ster, the " Chief of the Pilgrims " might have flourished quite 
naturally in Switzerland, could they have entered into the labors 
of William Tell. But Providence appoints such few and precious 
pioneers to distinct departments, it would seem, thus making the 
most of them. 



CHAPTER VIII. 

AMONG REMARKABLE FOOTPRINTS. 



One morning early in the last week of July, I went on board one 
of the little steamboats which daily ruffle the quiet lake before 
Montreux. I supposed it would in a few hours land me at Geneva. 



AMONG REMARKABLE FOOTPRINTS. 10 

Perhaps those to whom I had spoken of the journey had failed to 
" comprehend my ignorance," and so neglected to say that this 
boat would pass by Chillon, sweep across the end of the lake, and 
touch at the little village of Bouveret opposite Montreux, but that 
it would not go to Geneva before the following day. This knowl- 
edge came only after leaving the pier. But it was a great relief to 
intercept another boat at Bouveret, on which I could proceed di- 
rectly to Geneva. This boat was provided with a nice saloon con- 
taining easy velvet chairs and tables at which refreshments were 
served. 

The storm which soon gathered, and an aching head, deterred 
me from taking much pleasure in watching the towns along the 
shore, at some of which we touched. 

When we reached Geneva's beautiful Quai de Mont Blanc, the 
sight of its grand hotels was very imposing to weary eyes looking 
through the rain for Pension Richardet, which had been described 
as excellent and quite near the Quai. A kind lady helped my 
young porter and myself to find it just around the corner, and up- 
stairs leading from a court-yard. There was a room for Sola — a 
pleasant one looking out into a large square garden. And she was 
not to play the hermit here either. Mademoiselle Bichardet was 
most thoughtful : Sola should come into the salon, where sat 
Madame Bichardet at her sewing, ready to welcome her with 
French sprightliness and kindness. At dinner many Americans 
were present, talking the old familiar English. At Sola's right 
were Mrs. M. and Miss H. from Chicago, intelligent Christian 
ladies, with whom it was very easy to speak of names familiar to us 
all. The next morning Mrs. M. and I went together to see the 
" meeting of the rivers " — Arve and Rhone. The Arve flows tur- 
bidly down from its source at Mont Blanc, and a little way out 
of Geneva, at the end of a gradually narrowing strip of land, joins 
the beautiful waters of the Rhone, which has hurried under its 
many bridges, sparkling and clear, to meet it. For some distance 
after their meeting, the streams appear distinct — the Arve still 
muddy and the Rhone pure and of a greenish tinge. But, as it is 
sometimes with united lives, one becoming in the end prevailing 
in its influence, so the pure Rhone absorbs the Arve into its own 
clear beauty at length. 

Upon invitation, I decided to accompany the two ladies of 
Chicago to Chamouni. We went one morning to Cook's Tourist 
Office and bought tickets as far as to Ouchy near Montreux. The 
same day I went alone about Geneva. I passed a very old church 
— the Madeleine — where the Covenant was signed, and a house 
known as having been the home of Rousseau. This had for me 
much less interest than John Calvin's old residence. In the 
square inner court of Calvin's house, I stood for some time gazing 
up at the windows opening on the four sides, noticing its elabor- 
ately patterned pavement, or trying to fix in memory the motto 
carved in stone on the wall opposite : Dominus est Propuguaculum 



20 WAYMARKS. 

meum. Below this motto is the carving of a face iu alto relievo, 
and the date 1707. A female guide showed me the interior of the 
Cathedral de St. Pierre. This was first built in the twelfth cen- 
tury. Among its trophies of the past, are memorial tablets in the 
stone floor that were placed there when the church was the prop- 
erty of Romanists, before the Reformation. The pillars within 
are very massive, though, as the guide assured me, parfaitement 
solid. The porch of the edifice is deep, with a pillared front and 
ornate ceiling. The Hotel de Ville had a special interest as being 
the place where a dozen or more years ago, the "Peace Congress" 
met to decide on national claims, and thus avoid war. Sublime 
event ! marking the progress of " Peace on earth" and "good will 
to men." 

In returning to the Quai de Mont Blanc, I lost my way, and 
failed to be there in time for the steamboat trip to Coppet — the 
residence of Madame de Stael. But from the curious and beauti- 
ful Jardin des Alpes, I enjoyed an extensive view of the Rhone, 
and the cloud-capped mountains which render its banks so enchant- 
ing. This river divides Geneva quite centrally, and seems to pour 
vigor and cheerfulness through the town. It flows around the 
large market place, and seems to keep fresh and cool the tempt- 
ing and extensive variety of produce furnished there on market 
days. On it, too, are the public laundries, where women, in long 
talkative rows, dip the clothes in its tide, and slap and pound them 
against smooth boards, before scalding them in the tanks of hot 
water which are seen steaming over furnaces close at hand. This 
seems to be done with care, judging from results. And to offset 
the inconvenience attending the feeing system, which is often 
deprecated, it seems well to remember the strict honesty which 
one finds among the chambermaids, porters, and laundresses of 
Europe. At least I can testify in their favor, never having lost 
through them on the Continent to the value of a dime, though not 
strict in keeping my possessions under lock and key. 



CHAPTER IX. 

THE CLEAEING AWAY OF SMOKE AND CLOUDS. 

We started at seven in the morning, on a diligence for Cha- 
mouni. We were five on a seat, row after row, on the high roof of 
the baggage compartment, to which altitude we climbed by means 
of a steep ladder. A light awning shaded us from the sun. The 
day was brilliant. There were just enough soft white clouds to be 
becoming to the blue sky ; and a clear alpine air flooded the land- 
scape. We noticed fine gardens and ornamental grounds in the 
suburbs of Geneva, but soon we were in those natural parks whose 
grandeur cannot be hedged in or imitated. I will not try to 



THE CLEARING AWAY OF SMOKE AND CLOUD8. 21 

describe the views of towering mountains, cliffs, cascades, chasms, 
gorges, and picturesque little home scenes where the chalet and 
meadow told of hard-won comfort and independence — seen from 
our rock-hewn roadway, where waving foliage curtained perilous 
descents and bordering wild blossoms beguiled us in rough places 
as if trying to laugh away all thoughts of danger. There was one 
drawback to the enjoyment of the ride to ladies ; and that was the 
smoke which seemed so necessary to our male travelling-com- 
panions. They kept tip a constant warfare against the pure airs 
of the hills with their pipes, cigars, and those imposing looking 
missiles said to play deadly havoc with youthful brains — cigarettes ; 
so that with us ladies there was 

Tobacco to right of us, 
Tobacco to left of us, 
Tobacco in front of us, 

till we really felt as if "some one had blundered." Swedenborg 
writes of " correspondences." It might be profitable to speculate 
as to whether an atmosphere of nicotine corresponds to a clear 
spiritual condition ; or whether it may not dim the soul's percep- 
tions, as it can dim the grandest views of earth. 

The crowning point of interest' during our ride was a glimpse of 
the summit of Mont Blanc, towering above a circlet of white clouds. 
"We caught this when the smoke had cleared away, while we were 
waiting for relays at St. Gervais. And though Mont Blanc soon 
retired into his cloud canopy, we could still say and say forever ! 
"I have seen him, I have seen the haughty king of hills, more 
than fifteen thousand feet in his flint-shod shoes and ermine 
mantle." 

An intelligent young physician from our own city, who sat next 
me, inclined to talk very freely about his own experiences in life. 
He told me that on religious questions he was a doubter, though 
not a determined one. Being much in love with a lady, whom, 
after a parting of three years, he expected to meet at Chamouni, 
he permitted me to share in the overflow of his thoughts. I was 
favored with a recitation of the poem he had addressed to his 
chosen one. He feared she had not liked it. I ventured to assure 
him, from what I knew of feminine natures, that the flattery of his 
devotion would doubtless be forgiven. At the same time, I begged 
of him, that in future years, when he shall have discovered that no 
mortal can long fill the place of religious ideals, to forgive the 
lady for failing to supply all that pertains alone to Infinite Perfec- 
tion to give. "We reached Ohamouni at about half past four p.m. 
Its many hotels seemed thronged with visitors. Among these was 
one whom we would have liked much to have seen — the poet Ed- 
ward Bickersteth ; but we were not so favored. 

We chose to go to the Hotel des Alpes, and liked it quite well. 
The 1 first morning of our stay, although I did not witness Mont 



VX WAYMARKS. 

Blanc actually " foretell the day," I did see quite an early glow 
upon his glittering forehead. After breakfast, I went with my 
friends to some of the ' ' magazins " or stores of the village, where 
we saw many beautiful pieces of jewelry, made from brilliant 
stones of various colors, which abound in some of the Alpine re- 
gions. We rambled along the lanes leading up toward the moun- 
tain steeps, gathering flowers or singing that fine old song, 
"Sweet Chaniouni's Vale," "with a new sense of its meaning." 
We would have liked to have read Coleridge's hymn — " Sunrise in 
the" Valley of Chamouni," but had no copy of it. 

We had planned an afternoon ride, but one of my friends being 
sick, we gave it up. I enjoyed a walk in the eastern part of the 
village alone. I followed the course of the Arve for a good 
distance, conversing on the way, first with a woman who was 
driving a cow, and afterward with two modest young girls, return- 
ing to their homes in a hamlet east of Chamouni. We spoke of 
thorns and roses, of rivers and lives, and a word of the Lord of 
all, and parted with a grasp of the hand. On my way back I 
passed a pretty little boy, who put out his hands for alms. How 
painful to see a child trained to dependence ! 

Sunday morning at Chamouni, I heard a very good sermon at 
the Evangelical Church, on our duty to imitate God in His love 
to all men — even our enemies — and by purity of character. In the 
afternoon I took a walk with my two friends and the Rev. Mr. B., 
of the English Church. It was a lovely day, and Mr. B. thought 
the Glacier du Bossons was not too far off for us to reach it easily. 
I allowed inclination to prevail over conscience enough to go over 
some most wild paths, or rather pathless wilds, until we were in 
the midst of the wide bed of a torrent now represented by two 
small streams running among great boulders on either hand. I 
became alarmed, and determined to return back over the stream 
already passed. While searching a crossing place, my compan- 
ions succeeded in getting over the second stream ; but waited, and 
assisted me to follow them. I would go no. farther ; but as I found 
my way alone to the near highway, and passed wearily back to our 
hotel in my wet boots, I had ample time to reflect on the advan- 
tages of resting one day in seven. I encountered two poor unfort- 
unates on my path ; one of them a goitrous woman leaning on a 
stick, and the other a helpless girl sitting for alms by the roadside. 
I tried to find out, by a question or two, if the latter had a knowl- 
edge of her Maker. Her face was very smiling as she took a coin ; 
but she only said, " Da ! da ! da ! " like a pleased baby. 

Bunches of "forget-me-nots," peeping out of the grass, seemed 
to say, "remember the Sabbath day!" The lesson of the day 
was not forgotten, nor the conviction lost that, for a Christian 
tourist, Sunday should be a restful as well as a devotional day, 
even for the best prosecution of sight-seeing and recreation, as 
well as for the exercise of an influence never to be twice possible, 
or perhaps, equally effective. I am persuaded also that Sunday rest 



SUNBEAMS AND CANDLE-LIGHT. 23 

is constantly attainable. The Law-giver of both our physical and 
spiritual spheres of existence is present in all lands to make a 
plain path for the weakest of those who are determined to walk in 
his fear ; so that everywhere, for the heart of faith, it is true that 
"a highway shall be there." 



CHAPTER X. 

SUNBEAMS AND CANDLE-LIGHT. 



On Monday morning we cast lingering farewell glances at Mont 
Blanc, as we rode in a carnage from the Chain ouni valley, on 
toward the Pass of Tete Noire. Glaciers broad and cold, like tur- 
bulent streams congealed when, as the poet sings, ' • the billows 
stiffened and had rest," were seen on our left hand as we passed 
along. All were surprised at the grandeur of the scenes that 
opened before us. We journeyed through a desert, where neither 
human habitation nor tree broke the long perspective of barren 
wild. On either hand rose a mountain wall among whose aiguilles 
or sharp peaks, to our right, was the T6te Eouge, or Eed Head, 
from the reddish color of its rock, largely intermingled with iron 
ore. Granite and slate abound in that region. We saw in fancy 
there, a Gerizim, an Ebal, and a Sinai. It was an exhilarating 
thought that the " strength of the hills is His also," who has said 
"I will make all my mountains a way," when promising deliver- 
ance to those in adversity. 

From this desolate region, we emerged into one where hamlets 
and cultured fields were seen in such isolated places, they seemed 
shut out from the rest of the habitable world. Wild flowers again 
abounded by the wayside. There were dandelions, pink yarrow, 
blue and white bells, the last in full, graceful clusters, giving a 
kind of tender expression to the aspect of the immovable hills. A 
close search revealed too, at every turn, some different fern or 
flower, often of exquisite fineness, but ready to wither almost at a 
touch. Here and there, the scarlet popjoy threw its surprised look 
from the grass, or wild roses suggested sweet associations with 
the " long ago," to our hearts. 

At T6te Noire, or Black Head, the road is tunnelled into the 
solid rock for a short distance. The scenery in this vicinity is 
very grand. The firm, rugged mountains are emblematic of the 
character of the independent people who have so long held them 
under republican rule, in the midst of the surrounding kings. 
Industry, temperance, and frugality are expressly demanded by 
the nature of the land, while its flowers symbolize those fine sen- 
sibilities that often exist in minds decided and resolute. One 
would look for great poets in Switzerland, if grand scenery alone 



24 



WAYMARKS. 



could produce great songs. But though Swiss patriotism has 
inspired the pen of a Schiller, there seems to be no Swiss epic 
poet of wide celebrity. At least, the ears of Sola do not catch his 
strains. 

Beyond Tt?te Noire, where we dined, there were' still new varie- 
ties of landscape. As the road toward the heights of Forclaz 
became difficult and rough, we alighted and walked part of the 
way, and when, after resuming our seats, we neared the highest 
point, and turned our gaze backward, the ascent appeared fear- 
fully abruj^t. From the summit of Forclaz, we stopped for a 
moment's enjoyment of the outlook, and then began the steep 
descent toward the valley of the Khone. The great St. Bernard 
rose plainly before us, with many another noble mountain. Our 
driver tried to indicate the locality in the distance, made famous 
by the passage of Napoleon's army, but the Simplon was too far 
away for us to realize its position. Most of the Swiss men in this 
region serve as soldiers for other nations. 

In Martigny — a little town lying in a veiy level and highly cul- 
tured valley — we stopped over night at a quiet and very pleasant 
hotel, the recollection of whose ample dining hall, adorned with 
plants, has its peculiar charm. In the morning, I visited the old 
Eoman Catholic church, which seems to be the only place of public 
worship in Martigny. In the afternoon Miss H. and I walked over 
the covered bridge which spans the Rhone, and climbing the ascent 
beyond, visited the Chateau and Tower of Batiaz, built, as is sup- 
posed, by the Romans before the Christian era. The stone walls, 
of great thickness, seem a part of the mountain from which they 
rise. The chateau contains dread " Oubliettes," or dungeons, and 
was once fitted to sustain a siege. There are chambers command- 
ing fine views from very narrow windows, and at the top of the 
tower is an observatory for looking over the town, and viewing the 
surrounding chains of mountains. A female guide led the way 
upward, lighting the dark rough passages by a candle. I noticed 
a large chimney-place and also a place for ventilation, extending 
upward through the wall. The wind blew around the tower, but 
it did not tremble, either from its age of many centuries, or from 
weakness of structure ; for it was " founded upon a rock." 

At about four p.m., we all took a train for Montreux, passing a 
country rich in wild gorges and cascades, then striking into the 
fair region about Lake Leman. Some of our fellow passengers 
were kind enough to point out the country to us a little. A lady 
with white hair, large, deep blue eyes, and a clear, rosy complexion, 
gave me a part of the bunch of Alpine roses that she carried in her 
hand. 

At Montreux, I enjoyed a visit with my friend Mademoiselle Z., 
whose mother's health was much better than when I left her. She 
gave me letters from dear friends at home. I felt loaded with 
kindly tokens of interest, especially on learning by how many 
hearts I was remembered in prayer during my wanderings. 



SUNBEAMS AND CANDLE-LIGHT. 25 

1 ' There is a scene where spirits blend, 
Where friend holds fellowship with friend : 
Though sundered far, by faith they meet 
Around one common mercy seat." 

On Thursday my two friends and I left Montreux en route for 
Interlaken. During much of the way toward Berne we enjoyed a 
broad rich landscape, with a dreamy perspective of mountains. At 
Berne, Mrs. M. and I visited a fine park, from which we looked 
toward the Oberland Alps. We admired the general appearance 
of the city, which boasts of some handsome buildings. We saw 
afar off the tower of the Federal Hall. We did not go bear-hunt- 
ing, though we passed two large bruins in stone, at a gateway. 

It was late when we reached Thun. A glance or two at its old cas- 
tle, and at the church which stands so prominently in the midst of 
the town, was but little to bestow on this place, so beautifully sit- 
uated. As we set off to cross the lake, a low streak of the sunset's 
crimson lighted the waters and picturesque shores ; but heavy 
mists soon enveloped us, turning to rain ere we landed at Inter- 
laken. Here we sought the near shelter of the Hotel de la Gare, 
where we spent two nights. 

Friday morning dawned finely. We took a carriage at an early 
hour for Grindelwald. It was not long before the Jungfrau in all 
her beauty, with her silberhorn glittering in the early sunshine, 
and her two friends, Eiger and Monch, appeared in full view. It 
was delightful thus to behold that snowy queen of mountains, 
toward which so many eyes from so many nations gaze, year by 
year, and whose image stands so clearly out in the varied medita- 
tions and experiences of so many hearts. I wrested some lines of 
the poet Heine from their true intention toward "Die Lorelei," 
and made them say : 

The most lovely Jungfrau sitteth 

Yonder, lofty and wonderful, 
Her silver adornments are flashing, 

She ariseth with gleaming locks. 

(*' Die schonste jungfrau sitzet 

Dort ober wonderbar ; 
Ihr goldenes Geschmeide blitzet 

Sie komm't es mit golden haar.") 

And I thought that when the tempests of winter roar about the 
Alps, there must be heard near the Jungfrau, " eine wondersame, 
gewaltige Sturm Gesang " — a wonderful, powerful storm anthem. 



26 WAYMARKS. 

CHAPTEE Itt. 

SHOWING "PLAIN PATHS " AMID KOUGH PLACES. 

"We turn from the Jungfrau, and soon gain a view of the Wet- 
terhorn group. Our carriage was one of many winding in a long 
train toward Grindelwald, where we dined at a wayside hotel. 
There was time for a horseback ride to the great Glacier, which 
we saw a little farther on ; but a short rest in a quiet parlor was 
more attractive than a saddle at that time. We started for Lauter- 
brunnen at about two o'clock p.m. The Lauterbrunnen region 
is delightful. Towering rock formations frowned upon us, like a 
range of castle walls and towers framed on a stupendous plan. 
Looking up at those bulwarks fashioned by Divine power, it was 
easy to see how men took their patterns for castles and strong- 
holds from such works of the Great Designer, and a fuller mean- 
ing seemed to dwell in the line of Luther's Hymn — 

" Em' feste burg ist unser Gott "— 
A strong fortress is our God. 

Our next stop was at a hotel close to the Staubbach, or Dust- 
brook ; so called because the lofty cascade here falls in a dust-like 
spray. But after our long sunny day, it was a great relief to leave 
behind the noisy crowd on the hotel porch, and ride in the shades 
of day's decline toward Interlaken. The flowery height of the 
Murren, the Heimwehfluh, whose enchanting prospect is said to 
leave a sad yearning, like homesickness in the heart, the Bugen, 
and other attractive points lay suggestively near our route. Our 
stay at Interlaken was too short for more than a taste of its feast 
of mountain grandeur and sylvan beauty. 

During our ride to Grindelwald, we heard music from a genuine 
Alpine horn, attended by sweet strong echoes. The next day we 
went by steamboat over the lake of Brienz and rode by the 
Briinig Pass to the lake of the Four Cantons, where we embarked 
for Lucerne. The Briinig road is not so wild as is that of T6te 
Noire, yet it has some grand situations. My two friends rode on 
the outside of a stage, while I was obliged to enter a carriage 
alone. Soon an English gentleman and his two tall sisters 
came to fill its three vacant places. The girls both sat on the 
seat I occupied, crowding me into a corner, and protesting they 
could not ride backward. I moved to the opposite seat, which 
concession they took very coolly. I heard them after a time in- 
form their brother that they were sorry not to have the carriage 
all to their party, as there was not room now to make themselves 
comfortable. I afforded some relief to them by getting out and 



SHOWING "PLAIN PATHS " AMID ROUGH PLACES. 27 

enjoying an uphill walk and talk with the driver, much to their 
brother's expressed surprise. He wondered how I could under- 
stand such unprovincial speech, not realizing how much a certain 
portion of the American family can make out by guessing. 

The Swan Hotel at Lucerne was overflowing with guests ; so we 
were spilled into its second building, from which, however, we 
could easily step over to the dining-hall for our meals. 

Sunday morning we attended the English services, worshipping 
with a large congregation in a pleasant edifice in the heart of the 
town. The preacher's theme was Elijah and the prophets of Baal. 
In the afternoon we heard a heart-warming sermon from a Scotch 
minister in one of the Koman Catholic churches. It seemed 
strange that both Catholics and Protestants should use the same 
church. The minister preached from the last two verses of the 
third chapter of Philippians, and dwelt on the second coming of 
Christ with much fervor. A young English lady, whom I had 
heard allude to this subject at our hotel table, was present and 
walked by my side on our way from church. She told me that 
the Eev. H. Grattan Guinness, of London, had published some new 
views on the prophecies, and said, " You ought to hear him preach 
when you are in London." Her words were afterward recalled by 
me in London, leading me into an interesting and, I think, profit- 
able train of circumstances. Indeed, how constantly do we find 
out the influence of words as well as of deeds ! And if there were 
not power in words, would Christ be called the Word ? 

On Monday we walked out to the old city wall, which with its 
ancient tow r ers adds a pleasing historic effect to the otherwise 
attractive city of Lucerne. We went, too, to view the sculptured 
lion, graven by Thorwaldsen on a perpendicular w 7 all of rock in a 
quiet sheltered quarter. The place is furnished with rows of 
settees, on which visitors sit and contemplate this expressive em- 
blem of Swiss fidelity to an accepted trust. The rock, dumb for 
ages, was smitten by the iron that for ages had lain in the still 
chamber of the mine, and a work produced to stir men's hearts to 
sympathy and admiration for heroic decision. "Whence this result. 
Truly ! ' there is a spirit in man ; and the inspiration of the Al- 
mighty giveth him understanding." It seems strange that there 
are so few attempts to imitate Thorwaldsen's plan of uniting art to 
nature, by sculpturing the artist's design on the unquarried stone, 
thus conserving to it all the accessories of the original grandeur 
and wildness of natural scenes. 

The two most popular mountain excursions from Lucerne are 
those up Mount Pilatus on the left, and the Eigi on the right of the 
lake that spreads in changeable tints and shades before the town. 
We chose the Eigi, taking a steamboat to Vitznau, whence we went 
by the inclined railway to the Kulm or summit of the mountain. 
My friend, Mademoiselle Z., pronounces the Eigi the "crown of 
all " the Alps ; not of course for its height, as that is but about six 
thousand feet. It is fertile, so that even on its grassy top, the 



28 WAYMARKS. 

mouse-colored cows feed, tinkling their bells as they move. Two or 
three stations lower down, noble fir-trees droop their green fringes 
to the ground. Caverns lend the weirdness of their labyrinths to 
the wild ravines, or yawn toward flowery meadows from precipitous 
rocks. In all directions are interesting walks, or quiet retreats in 
which to rest or meditate ; while from the Kulm the outlook is 
wonderful, showing from the fearful brink of its most steep sides 
a vast stretch of lower land, lying with its villages, lakes, fields, 
streams and woods, like a world from which we had departed. 
But, on the other hand, appear in the cloud-regions the snowy 
chains of the Eastern Alps, whose tops seem "rolling in foaming 
billows," like the waves of an unformed planet. 

The afternoon sky was somewhat hazy, with white clouds sailing 
among the distant peaks. Our company had the pleasant accession 
of Miss W. , the Bristol young lady, and her two older friends, the 
Misses P. We all took tea at a table in the open air, in front of 
the largest hotel, talking of American poets, as well as of our bread 
and butter. As we rode down the mountain, we enjoyed some 
sunset glories, as they fell over the lake, lighting rich pictures of 
beauty and grandeur, that have now glided back among many 
others sweet or majestic, to be recalled by the magic names of 
Alpine heights and vales. 

The next day "we three" took rather a rainy excursion to 
Fhielen over the lake. We passed close to Tell's Chapel, but did 
not land. Some of those great St. Gothard works which are mar- 
vels in engineering can be seen from the steamboat. Before our 
Bristol friends left the Swan Hotel, their acquaintance bore sweet 
buds of Christian fellowship. By the savor of their pure influence 
my heart was cheered and comforted. How much Christians miss, 
when they fail in any social feast to set a chair for Him who so 
graciously says, " Behold, I stand at the door, and knock ! " 



CHAPTER XII. 



PROVING HOW DARK PATHS MAY LEAD TO LIGHT AND BEAUTY ; HOW 
TIME FLDSS AND WORSHD? CONTINUES. 

A rtde over the St. Gothard railroad is a grand privilege, even 
though at various intervals it has the detriment of what I heard 
an English traveller call a " nahsty tunnel." Had not the car 
windows been closed before we entered that twenty minutes' long 
bore through the heart of the mountain, the effect on our lungs 
might have been serious. The fumes of the engine's fuel, borne 
backward toward the passengers, are suffocating to a fearful de- 
gree, if allowed to freely pervade the carriages. But such a pro- 
gramme of "curvettings and pirouettings " as that engine fur- 
nished for our entertainment, and such a panorama of wild and 
beautiful scenes as it treated us to, while bearing us toward the 



HOW DARK PATHS MAY LEAD TO LIGHT AND BEAUTY. 29 

green valley of Airolo, should excuse a little puffing in its own be- 
half. There are always some hard things about travelling, but 
as an English girl said to me, " We must not be sore about them." 
A volume of philosophy is wrapped up in that advice. 

The St, Gothard works, as high expressions of man's enterprise 
and endowments, fitly harmonize with the displays of his Creator's 
power by which they are surrounded. " Thou madest him to have 
dominion over the works of Thy hands : Thou puttest all things 
under his feet." 

The Italian skies were soft and blue above us as we dined at 
Airolo, in an apartment opening toward mountains whose slopes 
were clothed in bright verdure. We met there a little company of 
Americans, distinguished from most tourists by abstaining from 
wines. On their advice, we decided to stop, on our return toward 
Lucerne, for an hour at Andermatt, to ride to the Devil's Bridge. 
When we reached Andermatt, a gentleman kindly secured a car- 
riage for us, but stipulated that the driver should return to the 
station in three-quarters of an hour. As we rode up to one of the 
wildest regions, the driver shouted and beat his poor, thin horses 
in such a way, that neither having control over the exijedition, nor 
any commander to compel my riding in misery (for pleasure), I 
alighted. There is a certain rest in following our moral convic- 
tions. But I did not gain bodily strength or rest in attempting to 
climb the mazes of the shortest path to the wonderful bridge. 
Overcome by various fears, I turned to loiter by the way till the 
carriage should come back. Meeting a German gentleman and 
his wife, -whoin we had seen at Chamouni, I received a cordial 
greeting ; though between our two languages our words got sadly 
tangled. At last the carriage returned, picked me up, and dashed 
down to the station, where we had some little time to wait for the 
train. Surely there is less need of hurry in life than people think. 
" He that believeth shall not make haste." 

As we sped on to Lucerne at evening, a sweet young girl who 
sat opposite me in the car, and said that she lived in that city, 
presented me with a choice bouquet of cultivated flowers. 

On the tenth of August, I stored my spare possessions at the 
Swan Hotel, and taking a light bundle only, set off with my two 
friends for a trip down the Bhine. We took an early train for 
Schaffhausen, which we reached about noon. We had a sight of 
the Falls of the Bhine in passing them. They are fine, though 
scarcely imposing, after one has seen our Niagara. After lunch 
at Schaffhausen, we walked out into an old and interesting quarter 
of the town, and visited the banking-house of Zundel & Co. It 
is near a large paved public square, surrounded by noble build- 
ings, quaint in style and curiously ornamented. Doubtless, as of 
Nuremberg Macaulay sings, 

# " Memory haunts their ancient gables" — 

and history too. 



30 WAYMARKS. 

I was anxious to visit the old minster built in the twelfth cen- 
tury, and asked its direction of the elder of two bonnetless, but 
evidently respectable women, whom we met in the street. She 
offered to point it out to me, as it was not far from her home. My 
friends went back toward the station, and I went on with the 
woman and her companion. Her name was Schatter, and she was 
a widow. Learning of my wanderings, she thought I had much 
courage. We entered the minster enclosure, and I looked well 
at its time-worn walls and tower. The widow said she was a 
Protestant. I offered her money for her kindness; but she 
decidedly refused to accept it. I next asked the way to the castle 
called Der Munot, rising not far oft' on an eminence. Both the 
women attended me to its entrance on the summit of the hill, and 
finding I wished to explore it, rang its bell. A boy guide appeared 
high up at a window, and soon came down and admitted us all, for 
I insisted the women should come with me, since they had never 
been inside. As we passed into the dark gloomy spaces of the 
castle I was glad of company. We went over it almost 

" Prom turret to foundation-stone." 

It was begun in a.d. 366. Of late years it had been partially 
restored from decay. On the ample roof of its main edifice, a 
deep well opened, from which I drank. From its tower, where 
the parents of the guide had a tidy abode, we looked down on the 
tiles of Shaffhausen, with the Rhine winding out into the country, 
and mountains rising beyond. We examined many spears used 
anciently. One of them was ornamented with traceries, and bore 
the motto Soli Deo glor (to God alone be glory). One of the 
women accompanied me nearly to the station, where with my 
friends I took the train for Strasburg. We arrived very late at 
the Hotel de la Ville. 

Our company was now pleasantly augmented, through Mrs. M., 
by the addition of Mr. H. and three other gentlemen, Knights 
Templar, from Iowa. They had come to England with their 
Commandery, their chaplain being Eev. Dr. L., of Chicago. 

Taking a long and much-needed rest, after my castle explora- 
tions and going without supper the previous day — I was left at 
the hotel, while my friends went to view the city. But after a 
late breakfast in my room, I walked alone, determined not to leave 
Strasburg without a sight of its cathedral, even though my party 
should go on without me. Reaching it, I first walked slowly 
around it, viewing its lofty dark stone towers of intricate beauty. 
Then entering on the side containing the celebrated clock, I 
waited with the hushed company of strangers before it. At the 
hour of eleven, a figure representing Time struck the clear-toned 
bell. The effigy of Old Age passed on and disappeared at the 
appearance of Death, and then all was quiet for the next quarter 
of an hour. What an object lesson is that clock to the great pro- 



LAND OF SILVER MARKS AND COPPER PFENNIGS. 31 

cession of lmman beings constantly passing before it! What a 
monitor of the flight of our short years. Yet the solemn aisles 
close at hand ever invite to the worship of Him who is " from 
everlasting to everlasting." 

I lingered near the altar awhile, then walked down through the 
nave, then out of it to return by a different entrance. " Glory to 
God in the highest, on earth, peace, good-will to men ; Thy 
kingdom come ! " — such was the anthem my spirit sang. 

In framing that cathedral, men did their best in the name of 
religion. And did not their work tend toward the uplifting of 
each heart that in singleness of purpose there turns its aspirations 
above, toward the " high and holy place " ? It was to me a " gate 
of heaven." 



CHAPTEE XIII. 

IN THE LAND OF SILVER MAKES AND COPPER PFENNIGS. 

We hastened on to Heidelberg, and dined at the H6tel de 
l'Europe. Then " we three," with Messrs. H. and S., rode up to 
Heidelberg Castle, which proved far beyond expectation in extent 
and in marks of former grandeur. Stately and noble in ruins even 
is the rich facade with the statues still erect in their niches, stand- 
ing like guards transfigured into stone. How strong the fortified 
walls must have seemed, ranging to a thickness of twenty-one feet, 
and enclosing space enough to receive almost the population of a 
town in time of siege. Yet time and war had conquered and laid 
waste what seemed so impregnable. We roved about with wandering 
eyes. I remained long in a window nook, gazing at a scene of pecul- 
iar beauty and suggestiveness. The sun's declining beams shone 
out beneath clouds, giving a pearly glow to the breeze-swayed 
smoke from the chimney-tops of the city below the heights, and 
lighted up the river and distant country. I leaned out and looked 
up at the dismantled walls, through whose openings the sky oppo- 
site was visible. I thought of the knights, ladies, and children who 
had lived here, long, long ago. We admired the " rare old ivies " 
with massive roots, that curtain with ever fresh grace and verdure 
the halls once gay with old-time tapestries. Among their shades 
cawing rooks fly fearlessly, and nests are built by little birds so 
tame that when I sang to one, it came hopping toward me. We 
passed through gloomy cellars, emerging into shady dells and 
bowers whose stories must have been romantic and thrilling ; and 
we made new discoveries at every turn. At last Mrs. M. and I 
found ourselves quite separated from the others, and puzzled about 
the way. We smiled at first at the thought of spending the night 
among those labyrinths ; but she decided to go in search of missing 
ones. I stayed alone to watch for them in one direction, while she 



32 WATMARKS. 

went in another. It was pleasant to see one of our modern Sir 
Knights draw near and gallantly take us in charge. Meanwhile a 
shower gathered and night enveloped us before we were all safely 
collected on the piazza of the hotel, recounting the tale of our 
wanderings and strayings at old Heidelberg. 

On Saturday our gentlemen friends went to Wiesbaden, while 
we ladies went to spend Sunday at Mayence. The way was 
through a productive country, walled by mountains on the west. 
On the east Ave saw the city of Worms in the distance. At Darm- 
stadt, where we lunched, w r e noticed a monument to Liebig and 
one to Ludwig I. We took rooms at Mayence in the Hotel de 
Hollande. Toward evening we took a long ride, visiting the statue 
of Schiller, and that of Gutenberg, the inventor of printing, also 
his workshop, and birthplace. He was born a.d. 1398. In passing 
the palace once occupied by the Princess Alice of England, our 
intelligent driver, on pointing out the dreary-looking pile, said of 
her: "She was good." He added that the Grand Duke would 
probably marry his sister-in-law, Princess Beatrice. It is pleasant 
to learn, however, that another man than this already married one 
is found for her. 

Fine gardens, many new buildings, and the grand tunnel near 
the suburbs, show modern enterprise ; while farther on, the 
old Boman towers and burial-mounds attest the deeds of the 
past. We reached a terrace commanding a view of the island on 
which Gustavus Adolphus was born. From this place also, in 
clear weather, can be seen Frankfort-on-the-Main, Wiesbaden, and 
other towns. 

On Sunday morning, we sought the place of worship, or as it is 
called in Germany, the Lokal of the Baptists of Mayence. We 
were threading our way through a narrow street in the wrong 
neighborhood, when, having asked our direction at the open win- 
dow of a house, a man there who was a Romanist, cheerfully offered 
to show us to the place, as he said he had once lived in the same 
building with the Lokal. He left us at the door of the "little 
upper room," where we found a band of worshippers on their 
knees. They represented the branch of nineteen members, whose 
head station was at Worms, where the church numbers sixty. We 
heard an earnest sermon from the pastor, Mr. Muller. At the 
close of the service he talked with us, and, with another gentleman, 
conducted us to the great cathedral or Dom. This was built in the 
tenth century, and has been partially destroyed three times. It is 
crowded with " graven images," some of which are so rude and 
grotesque, one cannot tell what they were intended to represent. 
The immense nave did not appear soiemn to my mind, like that of 
Strasburg Cathedral. 

Pastor Muller, a fine-looking, dark-complexioned man of about 
forty-five years, said he was baptized over twenty years before, in 
the Rhine, " shone basin ! " he added, meaning that it was a beau- 
tiful font. He said that the large edifice near the Dom, and now 



LAND OF SILVER MARKS AND COPPER PFENNIGS. 33 

used for Protestant worship, was formerly a part of the Romish 
church property, and contains a baptistery anciently used for im- 
mersion, but now covered, like the sacred symbol for which it was 
prepared. The pastor and his friend attended us to our hotel, and 
showed a hearty appreciation of our visit to their Lokal. 

Next morning we were olf on a steamboat for Cologne. Our 
friends — the Iowa gentlemen, soon joined us, coming up from 
Wiesbaden. The Rhine with its bordering vineyards, its cliffs, 
cities and villages, its wild rocky heights and dells, was slowly 
revealing its renowned pageantry, so enchanting to the mind. 
Castles and castles ! each with its legend and its history, the last 
often so blending and melting into the first, through the long, 
dim retrospect of centuries, as to be lost in its romance or its 
mystery. Some bear plain marks of flame and violence, some are 
mere broken shells like Drachenfels, and some have been restored 
from ruin, like the great Fortress Ehrenbreitstein opposite Cob- 
lentz. 

Of course we gazed with interest at " Bingen on the Rhine," the 
Mouse Tower, and the Lorelei Cliff. In contrast with Roman wall 
and fastness, or fortress recalling the presence of Rudolph of 
Hapsburg, or Henry IV., rises on a height of the Neiderwald, that 
bronze monument of present times which commemorates the Ger- 
man National Unity. 

How many a turbulent scene has been reflected in the winding 
Rhine ! How have its shores everywhere resounded with the 
" clash of arms," or been trampled by the feet of hosts contending 
for supremacy. But now the land is tranquil. Its principal cities 
increase in extent and beauty. The people rejoice in the victories 
of Kaiser Wilhelm, and are bound together by their love for his 
royal line. Yet everywhere is vigilance and military discipline. 
Strong fortifications and carefully drilled soldiers suggest the 
possibilities of new dangers and fresh conflicts. A squadron of 
cavalry or a company of infantry in their becoming uniforms, their 
sturdy figures well matched in height and build, are ordinary feat- 
ures of the streets of German cities. The soldiers march to 
church on Sundays in military order and array. As each young- 
man is required to serve in the army from one to three years, he 
gains a straight, fine carriage often noticeable in after life. From 
what he sees there, a stranger is imjDressed with the idea that the 
German nation would be most formidable to an invading or oppos- 
ing power. And yet many believe the cost of maintaining its stand- 
ing army too great to be counter-balanced even X>y the valuable 
individual discipline and imposing protection of its martial system. 
3 



34 WAYMARKS. 

CHAPTER XIV. 

PABTING. — HUNTING BAPTISTS. — NOBTHWABD BOUND. 

Soon after passing the university town of Bonn, we drew near 
the ancient city of Cologne, founded in the first century by a Ro- 
man colony, under the patronage of the Empress Agrippina. It 
contains not far from one hundred and fifty thousand inhabitants, 
and has very strong defenses. We landed near the Bridge of 
Boats, and were soon in close proximity to the great cathedral, 
whose five hundred elaborate towers had been seen when far in the 
distance, lifting their pale fretted spires high above all surrounding 
objects. After a short stay within its walls, we visited some of the 
stores near by, where cologne water is sold, or photographs of the 
cathedral and various other views attractively displayed. We took 
tea at the Hotel d'Hollande, close beside the Rhine, and then en- 
joyed an evening ride, during which we viewed the cathedral by 
" pale moonlight," whose soft splendor so fittingly clothes such an 
architectural witness to the enduring qualities of true beauty, and 
the unity of human capacity to appreciate them through all ages. 

We passed the Museum and Rathhaus, and rode through the 
old Roman gate to the enlarged modern boundary of the city. At 
Neumarket we were shown the two white horses' heads looking 
from their window, in commemoration of a strange legend. The 
story is that a beloved wife, having been entombed in a swoon, re- 
turned to her husband's house, begging to be admitted. He was 
so sure that she was not indeed his wife, that he declared it was as 
impossible as for his horses to come up-stairs and look from the 
windows. Immediately the horses did ascend the stairs and look 
forth, as if to confirm the wife's word ; and her joyful husband re- 
ceived her again to his home. 

At night, my pleasant room looked out on the illuminated Rhine, 
and music floated in to add enchantment to the scene. In the 
morning I bade good-by to the last of the six American friends 
who had accompanied me to Cologne. All were bound for Eng- 
land, though not by the same route, and I was now truly alone in 
Germany. 

Paying an early visit to the cathedral, I this time heard prayers 
murmured by the robed priests, and listened to the organ tones 
pealing and echoing through the vast temple, while morning 
beams streamed in through the rich windows. After gazing long 
about the place, I came slowly forth, and after many windings 
about the streets, entered the church — once called the Convent of 
St. Ursula, where are kept the bones of the eleven thousand virgins 
slain by Attila, during their pilgrimage to the Holy Land. These 
bones are displayed in the sides of a chapel, some of them being 
arranged to form various devices ; while skulls in crimson and gilt 



PARTING. HUNTING BAPTISTS. NORTHWARD BOUND. 35 

trappings stand in rows on shelves. The bones of St. Ursula's 
foot, and some other relics, are especially reverenced ; and there is 
shown a cracked jar, not much larger than an ordinary toilet 
pitcher, said to be one of the water-pots used for wine at the 
wedding in Cana of Galilee. A constant flow of the money of 
Protestants like me, is passing into the Romanist coffers for a 
sight of these relics ; while our own struggling European churches 
would be so gladdened by similar gifts ! 

One of the most striking objects of the streets of Cologne is the 
monument of King Frederick William III. in the Hay-market. 
There one sees not only an equestrian statue of the King, but also 
statues of distinguished generals and statesmen of Germany. 

In the afternoon, I succeeded in finding and visiting the Baptist 
Lokal of Cologne. A woman near by, who held the key, allowed 
me to look within the neat little chapel, and directed me to the 
house of Herr Peter Kauer, one of the members. I found 
his house No. 19 Strasburg Gasse, and making myself known to 
himself and his wife as an American Baptist, was warmly wel- 
comed. He was baptized in the Rhine at Worms. His wife had 
been a Baptist twenty-one years. They told me there were Bap- 
tists at Coblentz, and said there were two families at Muhl- 
heim, a village just across the Rhine, where I could learn 
much about church matters, in the English language. As they 
insisted on giving me the address of Herr August Kohl, of Muhl- 
heim, and as Fran Kauer proposed going as far as the ferry with 
me, I could not refuse to go over. My excursion proved an advent- 
urous one and quite unsuccessful ; I wandered through the streets 
of Muhlheim, showing the written address, and asking direction 
of people, till I began to be tired, and in need of supper. At the 
restaurant where I ate it, I was told that August Kohl had moved 
into another street. I sought this out and was directed by a 
woman to a workman named Kohl, who informed me that there 
were no Baptists in his family, nor was there at present an August 
Kohl in Muhlheim. This man, attired in a mechanic's apron, had 
a dark piercing eye, lighting up a noble physiognomy that might 
have suited the character of a Peter. I thought he might have 
made a fine Baptist, but he was not one. So I gave up my search, 
sought the bank of the Rhine, and embarked on the little steamer. 
A violent thunder-storm arose and beat under the light awning 
that sheltered the passengers. But my hotel was not far from 
the landing-place, and I ran in through its rear entrance about 
nightfall, glad to escape with only a partial wetting. The land- 
lord sitting near the upper staircase, seemed pleased to converse 
a little, and after learning of my expedition, answered my inquiries 
about a trip to Holland. He advised me to see some of its famous 
cities, where the sea brings its cargoes to the very doors of the 
warehouses, as at Rotterdam, or where merchants, enriched from 
the East India trade, enjoy their fine villas, as at Arnheim. He 
advised me also about my course, and promised to give me the 



36 WAYMARKS. 

next day the name of a good hotel, where his influence would 
secure kindness and courtesy. 

The next day found me journeying by train across the plains of 
Upper Germany, and passing into Holland as far as the beautiful 
city of Arnheim. A very pleasant Dutch lady in the car, who 
could speak at least four languages, told me many interesting 
things. At the stations where we stopped by the way, were many 
women wearing strange looking caps with gold ornaments and 
silver helmets of very awkward conspicuous styles. The lady said 
these were often valued very highly as heir-looms, besides being 
of intrinsic worth. She informed me that the Dutch literature 
was really very rich, though little known to English-speaking peo- 
ple. The most celebrated Dutch poet is, doubtless Vondel, whose 
statue is in the Vondel Park at Amsterdam. The train was ferried 
over the Ehine at Cleve, where we passed through a Custom 
House, and started on over lands, which are low and would be 
monotonous, but for Nature's wonderful variations in light and 
color, and the effects of great industry among the people. _ One 
notices often, in passing a town there, how nobly will rise in its 
midst some great church as a central object. My mind that day 
dwelt much on far distant and contrasting scenes, especially recall- 
ing the beautiful and picturesque little city of New England, 
where I have spent most of my past life. My meditations ran 
thus: 

Hastening on, a lonely stranger, 
With the loud and flying trains, 
Where the red-tiled roofs of Holland 
Slope along her flowery plains ; 
With the wind-sped mills in distance, 
And a city here and there, 
I am dreaming of a picture 
In a land more dear and fair. 

In the borders of New England, 
I can see a little town, 
Where the rivers wind as lovely 
As these streams of old renown. 
There the wooded cliff and valley 
Frame the homes of friends I love, 
With a verdure bright as Europe's, 
And as near the skies above. 



CHAPTEK XV. 

AMONG DIKES AND DITCHES. 



After dinner at the Hotel du Soleil at Arnheim, I started out 
with a Dutch driver for a long ride. The man seemed to compre- 
hend a little German, and pointed out to me some of the promi- 
nent public buildings of the thriving town. We rode by some 
pleasant gardens and villas ; one of these last I recall particularly. 



AMONG DIKES AND DITCHES. 37 

It was on the banks of a clear canal, with white fowl swimming on 
the water, and trees embowering the borders of the stream. But 
much to my surprise, we struck out on a lonely road and were at 
length leaving all the habitations of people behind us, as we en- 
tered a grove by a narrow muddy lane. A company of soldiers 
were returning to their barracks, a few people were going to the 
city ; but none went our way. I leaned out and addressed a 
young man who was attending two or three young girls from some 
rural excursion, into the city, and asked him if there was anything 
of interest to be anticipated in the direction I was riding. He as- 
sured me in French that there was ; and after a few pleasant 
words that I did not comprehend, and a few with the driver, he 
smilingly passed on, leaving me a little relieved of the anxiety 
that had sprung up in my mind. But when farther on, the driver, 
stopping beside a raised flat stone which he called a Tafeln or Ta- 
ble, came to the side of the carriage and insisted that I should 
alight, I was seized with such terror that the honest Dutch- 
man, seeing my alarm, suddenly exclaimed ye wohl ! and return- 
ing to his box, as I begged to be taken back to the Stadt or city, 
turned his horses in that direction, and repeating to himself, "Die 
frau nicht verstehen," drove out of the grove. But as we re-en- 
tered the streets now brilliantly lighted for the evening, I had no 
heart for further explorations, and was glad to reach once more the 
Hotel du Soleil. The portier explained to me that I had been taken 
to view the stone table which visitors were eager to see, as it was 
the place at which the Spaniards used to feast in the year 1400 
a.d. To my excited imagination, it might have been a stone on 
which the old Druids slew their human sacrifices. The portier 
told me that Holland was an honest place, " very different from 
America, where people are robbed and murdered ! " while the 
Dutch driver in whose care I had been placed would have taken me 
safely even to Brussels. I found frequent evidences, while on the 
continent, that by many of the conservative people America is not 
flatteringly regarded. A good lady in Germany told me that she 
looked on America as a rendezvous for incorrigible sons and crim- 
inals, and she evidently feared its influences over the better 
classes who had emigrated to the United States. I used to search 
the Swiss newspapers for tidings from my own land, to be re- 
warded with very scant allusions to its affairs, and these not at all 
complimentary. About all the items of American news that 
reached me for weeks in the Swiss columns were these : A hurri- 
cane accident ; some accounts of Mr. Webb's rash and fatal ad- 
venture at Niagara, with comments about the craving of American 
minds for such insane performances ; and an article asserting that 
in New York there were as many as fifty offices for the sale of chil- 
dren, the applicants for whom were very fastidious as to the color 
of the hair and eyes ! But perhaps I was nowhere more surprised 
at the way the United States were regarded, than at the Interna- 
tional Exhibition at Amsterdam. To this city a morning train 



38 WAYMARKS. 

from Arnheim brought me through a " Low Country " indeed. 
Towns were numerous ; but a part of the way was by a region car- 
peted in a pinkish sort of plant, and dotted over with small ever- 
green trees. 

There was connected with the International Exposition, a Stran- 
ger's Bureau, designed to furnish protection and entertainment for 
visitors. I sought out its agent at the Spoonceg or railway station, 
on arriving in Amsterdam, and after examining his chart, selected 
the address of a private family, who lived in the heart of the city. 
By the agent's direction, I took a tramway to the Dam, or great 
central square, from which the city lines diverge ; and then by 
means of a written line and by inquiring my way, finally reached 
my destination. On entering the house, which belonged to a car- 
riage-builder, I was shown into his presence by a young woman, 
who retired, leaving me vainly trying to explain my wishes by 
speech, or the card of the Bureau which I held in my hand. The 
man in a high workman's apron with his large meerschaum between 
his teeth, looked blankly first at me and then at the card, until I 
asked to see Madam. The wife's appearance was prepossessing ; 
but we were still at sea in reference to language, when a young 
workman who spoke French was called in to act as our interpreter. 
All was soon arranged. The wife, Frow N., brought into the family 
parlor, which was placed at my disposal, coffee, bread and butter, 
with thin layers of cheese on each slice of bread. Her pretty 
daughter assisted to entertain me. Ifc ,was pleasant to find myself 
among evidently honest people, who spared no pains to make me 
comfortable. After a short rest, I went out, and through a dry- 
goods merchant who spoke English found my way to the Banque de 
Paris et des Pays Bas. It was on the Herrengracht — a fine thorough- 
fare consisting of a broad canal, with paved streets on either side, 
shaded by trees. It was past bank hours, but I was admitted, 
and furnished with some Dutch money on my letter of credit, as 
well as pleasant replies to various inquiries. I was soon on my way 
to De Brctkke Grond, the place of the International Colonial and Ex- 
port Exhibition. The grand main entrance to this Exposition was in 
imposing Oriental style, gorgeous with statues, flags, representations 
of Indian tapestry and white elephants and horses. The Colonial 
exhibits were ample, as might be expected in a land so largely en- 
riched from its foreign possessions. Among the nations most mag- 
nificently represented were China and France. I first found the 
flag of the United States over what was termed the "Mormon 
Exhibition," in a small section shared with that of Egypt. I sat 
down there on a little platform within range of the midnight eyes 
of a finely robed, olive-cheeked Egyptian, surprised that the en- 
sign of my own broad Christian land should wave thus narrowly 
beside that of the " basest of kingdoms," and above a title so re- 
pugnant and disgraceful as that of Mormon. The display here^ 
consisted mostly of mining specimens and photographs from 
Utah, Idaho, and Montana. It seems to have been furnished 



BY THE RIVER-SIDE, AND AMONG SHADOWS ON THE LAKE. 39 

through the influence of a Mr. Zeehandelaar, a Dutch gentleman 
reputed to have made great exertions for bringing the resources of 
the mines of Utah before the nations of Europe. Making a far- 
ther search, I at length discovered, in the great machine gallery, 
another section devoted to the United States. It contained a very- 
useful and respectable array of machines. The word American at 
the Exposition was likely to suggest the regions of Canada or 
South America, quite as soon as those of our own Republic. 

Refreshed by an excellent cup of tea served free by a tall native 
of India in his own flowing costume, and by a lunch, I prolonged 
my researches at pleasure, among the mazes of curious and elegant 
treasure galleries, until very tired. I then found a train which took 
me to the door of my lodgings, where the Frow N. looked out to 
welcome me as I alighted. In the morning I took leave of the kind 
N. family, to whom my presence was, I believe, a kind of mystery, 
as illustrated by the wondering look at me through the half -open 
parlor door, that I once caught sight of on the father's face. 

I "made much" of the day in sight-seeing, visiting first the 
palace of the King of Holland, through whose halls I was shown, 
with several other persons. Here Louis Bonaparte and his wife 
Hortense had lived. I was shown his bed-chamber, which had 
also at one time been occupied by his brother Napoleon I. The 
palace contains many rooms whose artistic adornments are very 
interesting. Greek marbles, superb paintings, tapestry, and em- 
broidery are abundant, and yet there is no crowding of furniture, 
or appearance of the bazaar style of display. Some frescoes by 
Dewitt on the wall of the fine dining-room called the smaller, in 
contrast with that which is much longer, were such perfect repre- 
sentations of high-relief, that it was hard to be convinced they 
were only paintings on a flat surface. In the grand Hall for Am- 
bassadors were many shattered battle-flags. 

From the top of the American Hotel I saw the city spreading 
around and outward toward the Zuyder Zee. Going from this 
hotel to the Trippenhuis, I enjoyed a feast among the paintings of 
Dutch masters. Here one learns what visions filled tlie brain of 
Van Dyke, Rubens, Rembrandt, and many other souls. Among 
all the pictures, however, none more impressed me than one 
called "The Adoration of the Shepherds," with the Virgin's ex- 
pressive face, and the real look of the child. 



CHAPTER XVI. 



BY THE RIVER-SIDE, AND AMONG SHADOWS ON THE LAKE. 

My afternoon ride over the level lands between Amsterdam and 
Rotterdam was a welcome variation from the day's programme of 
city explorations. My room at the Hotel Lucas, at Rotterdam, 
was quite near the old Groote Kerke, whose chimes rang beauti- 



40 WAYMARKS. 

fully out over my folding French window. As this opened on a 
balcony connected with other rooms, I felt uneasy, since I could 
not fasten it, but a talk with the Dutch chambermaid reassured 
me, though it was strange how we managed to understand one an- 
other. From nearly all the people I met in Holland, I received 
an impression of honesty and kindness ; and I can recall instances of 
disinterested painstaking in my behalf, during my stay there. In- 
deed, in all my journeyings on the continent, I was aggrieved by 
scarcely any treatment that a farther knowledge of customs or mo- 
tives did not prove to have been misjudged, owing to my own ig- 
norance or mistake. 

And how often are misunderstandings of motives^ rather than 
motives themselves, the primary causes of bitterness and strife 
among friends, as well as strangers everywhere! To "think no 
evil " until we really find it present, will prevent many needless 
trials. 

While passing through a street of Rotterdam, I was amused to 
hear a young man say to his companion, at the same time casting 
a sly glance at me — "America ! " A twilight walk, during which 
I observed a statue of Erasmus, one or two tramway excursions, 
and a carriage ride along the Boompjes with a driver who worried 
me sadly over his impatience for pay and drink money, when I 
could not get my gold changed at once into gulden, did not serve 
to attach me to Rotterdam so closely but that I was glad to fly on 
a very rapid train down into Germany, where the language was 
more familiar, and where I could get further glimpses of Rhine 
scenery. But no doubt had I been an adventurous merchant, or 
even an enterprising smuggler, I should have been fascinated by 
the Boompjes, where vessels that have passed through many waves 
rest, like tamed leviathans, under the shade of city trees.* 

Saturday afternoon I reached Coblentz on the Rhine, and took 
a room at the Hotel du Geant, opposite to Ehrenbreitstein, and 
close to the Rhine banks. There at dinner on Sunday I saw many 
officers of the German army, intelligent-looking men of gentle- 
manly bearing. Mrs. M., an English lady, who was an artist, and 
her bright little daughter were among the guests. Mrs. M. added 
much to the interest of my stay by her sprightly conversation. 
She had been, early in life, the pupil and pet of a certain man of 
genius and learning, of whom she told me a striking story, that to 
me illustrated the responsibility laid on minds like his in respect 
to their private personal influence. He had petted her in a 
marked and persevering manner, and allowed his gifted nature to 
cast a potent charm over her young life. Then suddenly, and at a 

* The word Boompjes means Little Trees. In the language of another, 
"the Boompjes is a beautiful quay, one and a half mile in length, shaded by 
a row of elms which were planted in 1615. It faces the river Maas, and is 
flanked by fine buildings. The river here is forty feet in depth, and the 
canals, three in number, are of sufficient depth to admit of vessels discharging 
in the heart of Rotterdam." 



BY THE RIVER-SIDE, AND AMONG SHADOWS ON THE LAKE. 41 

moment when there seemed no need of such a step, he had writ- 
ten her a most cutting and inexplicable note, from the shock of 
which her sensibilities had scarcely yet recovered. How much 
better the course of those who choose to appear cold and unsym- 
pathetic, rather than entertain themselves by sporting with sus- 
ceptible dispositions ! and most dispositions that are sufficiently 
interesting to be entertaining are susceptible enough to suffer, 
though they may carefully hide their wounds. 

I attended services twice on Sunday at the Baptist Lokal, No. 40 
Ecke der Freiderich Strasse. The portier of the hotel, being a 
neighbor of Pastor Stetschuler, had sent word to his house that I 
had asked for his place of worship. And so the pastor's daughter 
Mina, fifteen years old and recently baptized, came to escort me 
there. The morning sermon was on the future life, from David's 
words about his dead child — "I shall go to him." After service, 
I was cordially greeted, and invited to dine at the pastor's house. 
This I declined to do, but called there for a few minutes. The 
afternoon text was " My sheep hear my voice ; and I know them, 
and they follow me." One of the hymns sung that day was by 
Lehmann, one of the Baptist pioneers of Germany. Another was 
about the River of Life, and its imagery was delightful to me there 
on the borders of the Rhine, where, under spreading trees, 
stretched near-by the long lovely promenade of the Anlagen der 
Rhine. " Shall we gather at the river," in German words, was 
sung at the closing in the old tune so familiar to American ears. 
I see that the ' ' Moody and Sankey " hymns, translated, are 
finding much favor in Europe. The Coblentz Baptist station 
numbered twenty members. Their plain little "upper room" 
was the gift of a Scotch lady now dead, who once resided at Cob- 
lentz. 

At the close of the second meeting, four young soldiers in their 
bright uniforms, a sister from Bavaria, a brother named Altorf, 
and Mina Stetschuler started forth with me, but at last three of 
the soldiers went their way, and I was accompanied in a walk 
along the park, or Anlagen, by the rest of the party, who seemed 
to regard their foreign sister with much kindness. On our re- 
turn toward my hotel, Brother Altorf told me of the deep poverty 
of the Coblentz members. They are evidently obliged to work 
hard for their daily bread, this being the case even, as I surmised, 
with their pastor. 

The next morning Mina came again, bringing to me as a souvenir 
of Coblentz, an embroidered cushion. We went to the church 
of St. Castor, where the kingdom of Charlemagne was divided 
among his descendants probably a.d. 839. Mrs. M. and her 
child went with us there, and seemed much to admire the pro- 
portions of the ancient edifice. As we came out, she said in reply 
to a sentence of mine in which had occurred the word truth — 
"What is truth?" I replied, "Christ." We soon parted, prob- 
ably forever ; but I would gladly have known more of this charm- 



42 WAYMAEKS. 

ing lady. Mina rode with me to the railway station, and really 
seemed sad at parting. 

My journey to Lucerne, which I reached late at night, was ex- 
ceedingly fatiguing. At first, pleasant travelling companions and 
a sight of many picturesque and storied situations were diverting. 
But we are very dependent on our bread and butter for the sus- 
tenance of admiring moods ; and a single sandwich was all the 
food I could obtain during the long and changeful journey. At 
Bale, I was much perplexed about my course. The way thence to 
Lucerne by moonlight was through grand scenery ; yet I could 
not enjoy it. But after a good night's rest, and a meal or two at 
the Swan Hotel, I was ready to start for the Rigi, by taking a 
steamboat for Vitznau, whence the train ascends the mountain. 
The sail over the fair Lake of the Four Cantons was greatly 
marred by the tragic death of a fellow-passenger. He was a pris- 
oner, being remanded to his own people in the care of an officer, 
from whom he burst away, to drown himself. I saw some excited 
faces on the lower deck, and noticed that the boat put about for 
a few minutes, but was unaware of the cause until we were near 
Vitznau. 

The thought came to my mind — Could not kind words and 
sympathy have saved him ? I questioned whether my own 
countrymen would not have devised some way to save him even 
while he was sinking. Would there not have been found brave 
swimmers to have snatched him from death on an American lake ? 
But alas ! our foremost swimmer cast his life from him more un- 
provokedly than this despairing captive. 

The lake was saddened for me. A shade as from despair's dark 
wing hovered between its mountain gate-ways ; and Mount Pila- 
tus with its suggestion of the suicide of the Roman Governor, 
was in keeping with the sombre reflections of my thoughts, as I 
started on the climbing railway for Rigi Kulm. Beautiful lakes 
and rivers, mountains and vales of earth ! It was needful, since 
the "trail of the serpent is over you all," that the bruiser of 
the serpent's head should place his torn feet gently upon you. 
Oh ! that men, in their dark paroxysms of doubt and dread, would 
wait to remember this ; that looking on Him who was uplifted for 
us all, they might be instantly and forever healed from the ser- 
pent's fiery sting ! 



CHAPTER XVII. 

THE MOUNTAIN PULPIT. — "SERMONS IN STONES." 

On the exalted crest of Rigi Kulm, I waited for an hour or 
more. It was a restful opportunity to review the letters 1 had 
found waiting for me at the Swan Hotel. The next down train 
for Rigi Klosterli took me quite near the Hotel de l'Epee, where 



THE MOUNTAIN PULPIT. — " SERMONS IN STONES." 43 

I found, as I expected, Fraulein C, a friend of Dr. Y. She wel- 
comed ine kindly, and was my frequent companion during my 
ten days' stay at Klosterli. Her native land was a province of 
Russia^ but she counted herself a German. As she spoke English 
but imperfectly, our mixed conversation was often most laughable ; 
and Fraulein was very candid in her criticism of my German. 
There were few besides Germans at our hotel, and at table we were 
surrounded by a very social party from the Fatherland. Next me 
on my right sat Dr. H., from Bonn, Doctor of Chemistry. Although 
he had several languages at his command, English was not in his 
repertoire. So we had frequent difficulties in the way of convers- 
ing that were amusing on the whole. 

Fraulein was an accomplished musician ; and as there were 
other good performers there besides herself, we had fine music at 
times. One evening we were treated to Swiss songs by a quartette 
in the costumes of the country. One of their instruments was the 
zithern, which furnishes a fitting accompaniment to the melodies 
of the Alpine lands. The basso had a wonderful voice ; it seemed 
to me equal to that of Whitney in natural compass. Sometimes 
wild mountain shouts were introduced among the sweet measures 
of the songs. 

Frau Doctor K., of Vienna, entertained a party of us, one even- 
ing, by singing in the open air some of the many choice melodies 
which she could sing from memory, in a strong cultured voice. 
She closed with "Ave sanctissima ! " in a familiar tune, wishing 
us all to join in it at parting. I could not conscientiously invoke 
the prayers even of her who is "blessed among women." Being 
led to confess this in an after interview, I was delighted to find 
the Frau Doctor had not intended the hymn as a prayer, but had 
rather sung it as a melody for its sweetness. She affirmed that, 
though a Roman Catholic, she did not believe in the adoration of 
the Virgin ; but took also great delight in the New Testament, 
which she had given to various friends. "I shall continue to 
promulgate it," she said. 

The Sunday previous, I had been urging Fraulein C, who is an 
earnest Protestant Christian, of very exemplary life, to pray for 
the Romanists in expectation of blessing ; and the confession of 
this gifted Catholic lady, whose character is marked by influential 
traits, seemed to me a token of Divine readiness to hear such 
prayer. 

Fraulein C. and I attended the Roman Catholic service on Sun- 
day in the beautiful chapel at Rigi Klosterli, and heard preaching 
by a Capucine friar, on the story of Zaccheus, when he was called 
to come down from the tree, and receive Christ at his home. I 
was surprised to hear the application of the subject in such a 
place, made by such a preacher. The friar likened Zaccheus' 
stature to the lowly mind with which Christ should be received in 
our hearts at the present day. But although his preaching was 
so practical and, as far as I understood it, orthodox, there was 



44: WAYMARKS. 

niuch about the church and the remaining exercises to counter- 
balance his teachings. High mass was celebrated, and the day 
observed in commemoration of the dedication of the chapel two 
hundred years before, not to God, but, I fear, to Mary. In its 
vestibule were many votive tablets and offerings in the shape of 
waxen arms, feet, etc. , to praise Mary for deliverance from various 
forms of disease or affliction. 

Frau Doctor K. had a friend, Fraulein Julie B., at the hotel, 
who like herself was very kind to the American wanderer. She 
with her sister conducted a boarding-school for girls — Institute 
B. — at Freiburg in Baden, Germany, and had several of her pupils 
with her on the Bigi. With her and other ladies, I made many 
pleasant excursions, finding new objects of interest at every side. 
We visited one day a large cave inhabited by a cow-herd, and 
called the "Hermitage." It was a wild, deep chasm beneath a 
frowning precipice, over which falls a cascade. A part of the cave 
is allotted to the cattle ; but its recesses would have sheltered and 
concealed from view a wandering David with a large retinue of 
adherents. 

Among the Bigi views which I most enjoyed was that from 
Kanzeli above Kaltbad, at sunset. Fraulein G. and I had walked 
over from the hotel, passed among the labyrinthine formations of 
Nagelfluh, which form wild retreats near Kaltbad, sat awhile in the 
little chapel hidden among them, and then gone on to Kanzeli, or 
as it is well named, the Mountain Pulpit. Here we saw Day's 
parting glory flooding lake and cloud and lofty height. It was a 
new revelation of beauty, calling to mind Milton's sublime words : 



These are Thy glorious works, Parent of good, 
Almighty ! Thine this universal frame." 



We thought and talked of the glory of heaven to be revealed 
when the shadows of earth shall have flown away. How specious, 
how to be despised seemed all the sham pageants that wait on 
transgression. Such draperies of shining clouds, such scenes of 
natural beauty were not arranged to be fitting accessories of false 
and evil actions on the stage of human life. Slowly we took our 
'•'winding way" from Kanzeli. Even the beggars had left the 
path that turned into the more sheltered Klosterli, and passing by 
its tall dark fir-trees, led us safely to our hotel ; where we found 
the guests at dinner. 

The Bigi is largely formed of Nagelfluh, a conglomerate rock com- 
posed of variegated pebbles so firmly cemented by a lime mortar 
that the pebbles will often break in pieces before the cement will 
yield. My attention was constantly attracted to the pretty stones 
about our pathway ; so that Fraulein C. laughingly imitated the 
way in which, passing by flowers, I would point out a stone say- 



THE MOUNTAIN PULPIT. " SERMONS IN STONES." 45 

ing, " Oh, see that stone ! " She seemed to think this quite amus- 
ing. 

One morning I rose early to take leave of this friend and Dr. 
H., who was to accompany her to the station at Kaltbad, where 
she took a train. Soon after, with Fraulein B. and her pupils, I 
also took a train to Staffel, whence after an hour or two of delay, 
we were to start for Lucerne. My companions left me alone at 
Staffel, as they wished to take a ramble. But quite to my surprise, 
Dr. H. appeared, having walked up from Kaltbad, to " see me off." 
The morning view was glorious. We strolled, as the Doctor said, 
"Ma und wieder," with grandeur and majesty on every side; 
above us white rolling clouds floating in their blue element, on 
one hand far below us the ocean of verdant land with its liquid 
dottings, and on the other, the long ranges of snow mountains 
whose peaks often seem to blend with the illuminated vapors around 
them. It was a scene to dwell in -the recollection, and a fitting 
one in which to talk of " steps up to heaven." The Doctor bade 
me take a parting look at Rigi-Klosterli, lying "so still" in 
distance, my companions came, the smart little engine puffed, and 
the Rigi with its wildness, grandeur, and beauty was soon behind 
me. At Vitznau, we rested at a pleasant Pension, and then took 
the steamboat for Lucerne, where Fraulein B. and her pleasant 
pupils left for Freiburg, Germany, giving me an invitation to follow 
them there and spend some time at Institute B., when I should 
have finished my stay in Switzerland. 

At Lucerne, I stopped this time at the Hotel Wilden Mann, a 
quiet place for ladies, and where Fraulein B. is well known. I had 
now time to pass leisurely through one of the old covered bridges of 
the town, where paintings and mottoes thickly set overhead, repre- 
sent histories of the old families of Lucerne, and legends of ancient 
days. I visited the ' ' Glacier-garden, " and stayed long in its shades, 
where records of primeval ages are engraved in the enduring rock, 
and tell their stories of tropical Jieat and icy cold, in unmistakable 
characters. I saw the old bas-relief by General Pfeiffer, inventor 
of that style of decoration. 

At a store in the city, where I bought a few German tracts and 
a Testament, I found that there were about thirty Protestant Evan- 
gelical Christians in Lucerne, the residents being mostly Roman- 
ists. The store-keeper's wife said that there were two Baptists, 
there ; but they had gone away. She told me that her husba.nd 
was accustomed to spend half the year as a colporteur. £*he was a 
Presbyterian. 

I found the German tracts for the children excellent, 

While I was waiting to attend an ?$$ an concert in the Catholic 
Church called the ' ' Stiftskirche» u Jn t&e churchyard, which is 
said to resemble the Italian •' Oampo Santa," a beautiful Jittle child 
attracted my notice. He w^as jn the care o| a. youn.g girj who 
seemed very kin4 to him, I gave hjm, a little pictured tract and 
passed on. We met again, presently, when the maid looking up 



46 WAYMARKS. 

from the leaflet, said, " This is fine reading." I heard at length 
the grand organ, said to be one of the finest. Among the pieces 
rendered was the celebrated " Storm among the Alps." Its notes 
closely imitated a storm, with thunder and rain. The next day I 
returned to Montreux. 



CHAPTER XVIII. 

CHESTNUT GROVES AND " CASTLES IN THE AIR." 

I found on returning to Madame Z. and her daughter, that they 
had been quite anxious in my absence. Madame had had ' ' pre- 
sentiments, " and was now much relieved to know that I was safe. So 
" none of us liveth to himself," even away from home. I attended 
the French church on Sunday. On Monday I started to explore 
the windings of the Gorge du Chaudron, on the outskirts of 
Montreux ; but after penetrating a short distance into its wild re- 
cesses, where terrible chasms yawn beneath frowning crags, like 
Sinai's cliffs, I retreated tremblingly, as did Bunyan's Pilgrim 
from the mountain of the law that overhung his head, and went 
back to the streets of the town, content to look in at the shop- 
windows. At evening a Parisian lady entertained me at Pension 
Visinand, with music and conversation. She thought the United 
States suited to a republican form of government, but evi- 
dently believed it was not so with France. She wondered if the 
Mississippi did not run near New York ; but I shall not say what 
blunder of mine she had to correct. The next morning Madem- 
oiselle Z. and I enjoyed a quiet visit to the church-yard, where 
she told me of her cheerful faith in the guidance of God. I left 
her to take the train for Chietre-sur-Bex, to which place she was 
intending to follow me with her mother in the course of a few 
days. As they remained unable to leave home, however, I have 
never met these dear friends since that time. 

The railway from Montreux to Bex passes along a valley so 
smoothly level, that it is easy to imagine its soil as the deposit of 
a primeval lake, whose waters calmly subsided to the narrow bed 
now occupied by Lake Leman. At Bex a carriage was waiting to 
take me through one of the fine old chestnut groves that abound 
in that region, to the quiet Pension Moesching at Chietre. Here 
I found pleasant society in two friends of Mademoiselle Z., the 
Baroness S. and Madame 0. My window opened toward a snowy 
peak of the Dent du Midi, that seemed close at hand. Other snow- 
mountains towered off at the right, and between were lofty crags, 
terrible and gloomy in shadow, but often softened and illuminated 
by sun-rays that used to fall on airy vapors floating among their 
seamed masses ; so that Madame C.'s fancy made their jagged tops 
serve as towers of her air castles. She playfully pointed out to us her 



CHESTNUT GROVES AND " CASTLES IN THE AIR." 47 

lighted apartments up there, with their cloud curtains, like gauze 
draperies fluttering on high. Of course we would not be outdone 
in this matter of " castles in the air," when there were so many of 
them still unclaimed in that region ; but at once selected some of 
the grandest and most glittering for our own ; yet, as there were 
no accessible flights leading to their sky-parlors, except the flights 
of imagination, we stayed bodily among the groves and vineyards of 
Chietre. And these are delightful indeed, when the mountains 
around are bathed in sunlight, when the bells of the hamlets in 
the vales below are sending faint music abroad, and the rushing 
Ehone sparkles with the brightness of September's fairest smiles 
reflected on its tides of faintest emerald. Strolling out one day 
alone, I strayed into a vineyard, and tried to learn the secret of the 
productiveness of the Swiss vines. I saw that each vine is allowed 
its space of several feet, is supported fully, and tied with withes. 
It is allowed to grow scarcely higher than a tall shrub, and is 
trimmed very closely. The clusters of each vine are not crowded 
together, but full and rich. Growing on broad and lofty hillsides, 
the vines drink in the sunlight freely. Among these vines one 
can understand the Saviour's application of a figure familiar in so 
many lands : "Every branch in me that bareth not fruit, he 
taketh away : and every branch that bareth fruit, he purgeth it, 
that it may bring forth more fruit." The object of the vineyard is 
not spreading boughs so thick and leafy that they shut each other 
from the sun, and interlacing prevent fruit from ripening. The 
object rather is fruit, and that perfectly developed fruit. For 
this the cultivator toils early and late ; for this he watches anx- 
iously. So our Lord patiently cares for his vines, saying, " Here- 
in is my Father glorified, that ye bear much fruit." 

As I walked that day, gathering wild flowers or noticing the tran- 
quil scenes around me, I saw the haymakers at work. Butterflies 
were fluttering in the air, the crow uttered his wild notes, the 
snail was taking his time over his ordinary affairs, and so was the 
curious lizard, whom I was pleased to meet, though I did not care 
to shake hands with him. 

On one occasion at Chietre, we heard the " live thunder leap " 
among the Alps during the first chill storm of the season. It was 
pleasant to have the clouds roll away again, and enjoy the beauti- 
ful days that succeeded. One day I walked- to St. Maurice, an 
old fortified town, not far from Chietre. I lost my way at times 
during the excursion, though several people were very kind to 
give directions when asked. One of these was a man who was near a 
house, in the door of which were some little children, among 
whom was a sickly boy with a most pathetic expression on his pale 
face. There is at St. Maurice a remarkable resort, much fre- 
quented by travellers, but which I did not care to explore. A 
cavernous passage leads far into the mountain's dark interior to a 
hidden lake. This region is very wild and tempting to the adven- 
turous. On Saturday I rode through Bex and beyond on the high 



48 WAYMARKS. 

hills, whence one gains fine extensive views ; then to the grand 
Hotel des Salines, built, I learned, on a scale too extensive for 
financial success. Victor Hugo was to visit Bex about that time ; 
though he may have been " so near," he was yet " so far" as to re- 
main invisible to my eyes, that would gladly have looked on the 
noble old man who wrote the story of Jean Valjean with the power 
and pathos of a great soul warm with love and pity for the woes 
and aspirations of the oppressed and misunderstood poor. 

There is an ivy -draped ruin in view of Chietre that lends a pict- 
uresque aspect to the landscape, and doubtless has some legend or 
interesting story. One of the family at Pension Moesching related 
to us the strange tale told in the neighborhood of an old church-yard 
far up on one of those mountains from which the land of Chietre is 
thought to have slidden down in some ancient period. It is said 
that on this height rings are seen attached to the rocks, where 
boats were made fast in long forgotten times ! But I did not 
learn that any one living had climbed up to verify this statement. 

The Baroness and I read German and English together daily. 
On Sunday, with Madame C, we attended the French National 
Church in Bex, and heard a solemn discourse on the communion. 
I started to return to our Pension alone, as the ladies wished to 
remain a few moments in the village, and I thought it would be 
pleasant to rest by the way and read some letters. But as was 
usual with me in that region, I missed my path, and made many 
false turnings, growing more and more disgusted with roving in 
strange lands, until, when pressing on toward the wooded heights 
before me, I suddenly espied the buff-colored parasol of the Bar- 
oness moving off to the right of my own course. Plunging toward 
that welcome beacon, I passed through clover blooms and over 
fresh-turned clods, and surprised my friends by coming up behind 
them. I soon recovered my spirits, and looked more kindly on the 
fair but bewildering scenes around us. 

I paid a second visit to the place where I had seen the little, chil- 
dren and their pale brother, this time taking for them some pictured 
story leaflets. Their mother was outside the house, and talked with 
me. She said she had many children, and seemed pleased with 
the little gifts. Having decided to visit Institute Bias at Freiburg, 
in Germany, I resolved to attempt the journey in one day. Madame 
C. and the Baroness S. went with me as far as to Montreux, and 
kindly assisted me in many things. Mademoiselle Z. was too ill 
to meet me ; but sent her maid to the train with a farewell note. 
My baggage was brought to the station from Pension Visinand, 
and I was off without delay. 



AMONG SCHOOL- GIRLS AND LEARNED DOCTORS. 49 

CHAPTER XIX. 

AMONG SCHOOL-GIRLS AND LEARNED DOCTORS. 

Two English ladies and a gentleman from Geneva rendered the 
day's ride somewhat social, and all had some useful suggestions to 
make. During conversation on various topics, the gentleman re- 
marked that he was a Roman Catholic, but regarded the images 
used by that church as needed merely by uneducated minds. It 
was necessary to change trains at Bale in Switzerland, ride to 
Basle in Germany, pass all baggage through the custom-house ; 
and after a stay allowing for dinner, take the cars for Freiburg. 
There I arrived alone at a little past eleven p.m. At first, no one 
appeared, as expected, to escort me to the Institute B. But out 
among the drivers, who are not allowed near the trains, I found 
one, with a written paper in his hand, designed for me. In a few 
moments, Fraulein Julie B., with two of her pupils whom I had 
met at the Rigi, gave me a cordial welcome at Institute B., in 
Kaiserstrasse. After insisting that I should take some refresh- 
ments, they escorted me to " Freiburg feathers," as the Fraulein 
expressed it, and left me to needful repose in a room whose walls 
and bed had been strewn with vines in honor of my coming. In 
the morning little Julechen B. brought me a cluster of half-blown 
roses for my table. I looked out upon the airy and lace-like tower 
of the fine old Minister that forms the proudest object of architect- 
ure in the city, and soon, with two young girls, entered its lofty 
open vestibule, adorned with statues of saints and allegorical fig- 
ures, and passed into the grandly beautiful sanctuary, which was 
afterward for me a favorite resort. We visited also another old 
church of quite an opposite style to that of this Gothic cathe- 
dral, its ceiling being flat, with frescoes in rich dark colors. Frei- 
burg was founded in the year 1091, at which time Duke Berthold 
II., of Zahringen, erected new fortifications at the Schlossberg, 
over the remains of old Roman works, so many of which are still 
seen in and near the valley of the Rhine. A small colony then 
settled at the foot of the castle hill. 

Freiburg has passed through many political changes. Its an- 
cient gates, such as the "Martins Thor " and the " Schwaben 
Thor," remind us of olden days and customs ; while the magnifi- 
cent monument in the Kaiser-Wilhelins-Platz, erected in 1876, in 
honor of the valor of the army of Baden, in the Franco-Prussian 
War, commemorates the deeds of modern times. On the east, the 
city meets the Black Forest, into which it is easy to make excur- 
sions. Indeed, both on foot and by excellent roads, one can en- 
joy a great variety of vale and- mountain tours, affording a long- 
series of interesting views ; while Strasburg, Stuttgart, and other 
cities of renown, are within convenient access. I made some 



50 WAYMAKKS. 

pleasant trips on foot with my school-girl friends, and as I was 
admitted to their evening circles and to the privileges of their 
class-rooms, it was almost like renewing my old school-clays. 

One evening a party of ns walked up to the grove-crowned height 
of Saint Loretto, and looked forth on the fertile plains of Baden. 
Before us, in the distance, lay the long misty range of the Vosges 
mountains at the frontier of France. Behind us rose the fir-cov- 
ered hills of the Black Forest, with the peaceful Giinthers-Thal and 
its pretty village in the near foreground. On the left hand, was a 
picturesque scene— mountain, villa, dale, and hamlet lying in a 
dreamy haze, while the setting sun still glowed above the horizon 
from a parted drapery of clouds. On the right hand, the city of 
Freiburg spread from the base of the green Schlossberg along the 
valley *6f Baden, beyond which rises the ridge of the Kaiserstuhl 
Hills. Over its sloping tiled roofs towered its ancient cathedral 
or Miinster, hovering, as a German writer has said, " like a swan 
with her younglings about her." 

On another day we ascended the Schlossberg, from which we 
had extensive and pleasing views of the surrounding regions. 
This highland of the Schlossberg is cultured and adorned like a 
park, for the advantage of visitors, and yet its natural range and 
variety is too great to be easily explored. From whatever point 
one looks at Freiburg, one finds the Miinster a striking and cen- 
tral point. This cathedral was begun in a.d. 1120. 

The transept and two lesser towers are all that remain of the 
original structure. The principal tower was begun in the thir- 
teenth century, but the cathedral was not completed till the six- 
teenth century. So we see it represents the united effort and fixed 
purpose of many generations — a purpose which frequent political 
convulsions could not overthrow. The Miinster is now a master- 
piece of Gothic architecture, and is said to be the only complete 
cathedral of that style in Germany. Its ancient windows are rich 
in coloring and intricate in design. It contains several monu- 
ments, and many statues and paintings. In one of the choir 
chapels may be found a picture by Hans Holbein the younger, and 
in the chapel of the Last Supper is a representation of this scene, 
with life-size figures. In their faces and attitudes these figures 
are very expressive, but they do not satisfy the " Americanerin," 
as far as most of them are concerned. The face of the beloved 
disciple especially has appeared to her weak, though that of Judas 
is full of strong character. But why should graven saints generally 
look as though they had run away from the field of human enter- 
prise and hidden feebly in corners — or dpn't they look so to most 
people ? 

The Miinster is built of dark sandstone, and its exterior is very 
rich in carving and statues, some of which are purposely grotesque. 
It rises from the market-place, massive, solemn, and grand with 
its centuries of history and associations. Its spire is four hundred 
and ten feet high, and is airy and graceful, its solid stones seeming at 



AMONG SCHOOL-GIRLS AND LEARNED DOCTORS. 51 

a distance lace-like, as light is seen glinting through their frettings. 
On market-days, from the gayly clad crowd of peasants, here and 
there one will steal through its open doors into its cool, quiet 
precincts, and gazing up the vista of the heavily pillared aisles 
toward the high altar, kneel in silence. Does it not seem to them 
a very gateway of heaven, by which their forefathers entered and 
by which they and their children hope to pass ? Some who are 
not of these have lately stolen into the Mimster and prayed with 
the " saints of all ages," " Thy kingdom come ; thy will be done," 
asking that light may shine forth where superstition now binds 
the heart, and that darkness may flee away. 

Fraulein J. Bias said of the Minister of Freiburg: "It is re- 
markable not only for its antiquity and architectural beauty, but 
also for its origin and history. It was built not so much from the 
gifts of the few rich, as from the willing offerings of the many 
poor. Artisans gave their labor eagerly for the honor of working 
on its dome. Men came from distant places glad to contribute 
their best skill without moneyed compensation. And those who 
received wages, toiled at the very lowest price. Then through its 
long centuries, how many souls have there received their rites, 
have there looked for their last consolations ! " 

Once, on a starry night, we stood high up on the Schlossberg 
over against the Munster Tower, w T hich seemed to rise with our 
ascent. Suddenly, above the sparkling city lying below us, the 
tower was flooded with golden light, streaming forth in an im- 
mense halo into the surrounding sky. Then, after an interval of 
darkness, the spire was again illuminated with an emerald bright- 
ness, whose radiations were almost fearful as they streamed toward 
the Ursa Major and the Northern Star. Again an interval of dark- 
ness, when a flaming red light flooded the graceful tapering tower, 
and glowed far and wide into surrounding space. " Ah," exclaimed 
a Fraulein at my side, ' ' red is the grand color. It is the fire, it is 
the enthusiasm ! " To my heart, the illuminated cathedral spire 
was an emblem of " the knowledge of the glory of the Lord," sure 
to " cover the earth as the waters cover the sea," and the sublime 
scene appeared to demand some anthem of gratitude, some dox- 
ology of praise to Him who shall yet by " His appearing " illumine 
all the darkness of this shadowed world. 

Fraulein Julie B. trains her scholars in many things besides 
books. They learn to be helpful and very courteous to visitors, 
especially to those older than themselves ; to assist in some house- 
hold duties, to sew, and to be orderly and quiet in their deport- 
ment. They seemed, as a class, much less opinionated and head- 
strong than American girls in general. Their style of dress was 
much simpler. We ate four times a day at Institute B. Some- 
times our four o'clock repast was taken in the garden, or in a sum- 
mer-house with glass doors. One day, having ridden out to the 
pretty village of Gunters-Thal, the girls were left in my care to 
take their afternoon coffee on the grounds of a hotel. Fraulein 



52 WAYMARKS. 

Julie requested me to be careful to select tables safe from the in- 
trusion of any soldiers or students who might stray out from Frei- 
burg. I did so, and we were eating merrily in the garden, when a 
sudden shower caused the girls to gather up their repast and 
hasten to the sheltered space, where, of course, the gentlemen and 
soldiers were so gallant as to assist in making room. " The best 
laid schemes " of teachers and Americanerins " gang aft a-gley " — 
but I think no flirtations occurred on that occasion. I was obliged 
to say to Fraulein, however, in answer to her inquiries, that I did 
not think it would be safe to repeat the experiment we had made, 
too often. 

Freiburg is celebrated for the skill of its medical men. It has 
also other citizens distinguished for learning. A convention of 
scientists was assembled there during my stay, and I regretted 
not being able to accept an invitation to attend one of their ses- 
sions. At this meeting a report was given of researches made by 
an expedition fitted out in the interests of science, at the expense 
of a wealthy young gentleman who was present. I think he had 
been reckless and dissipated, but happily now had turned his 
attention to useful objects. 

I enjoyed two evenings in the society of the learned Hofrath (or 
Court-Counsellor) Fischer, of Freiburg, who, as Fraulein (who. is 
on very kind terms with him) informed me, has written a hundred' 
books. On one occasion he played the piano, without notes, for a 
long time without interruption. On the other, he was occupied 
with the zithern, questioning some of the girls in regard to the 
tones, etc. Music is his recreation. He is tall, with a large head, 
deep-set eyes and shaggy iron-gray hair. He appears to be most 
candid and reliable in friendship, as well as conscientious in schol- 
arship ; but alas ! as Fraulein sadly told me, he is not a believer 
in Christianity. Fraulein is herself a Romanist. .In her school 
she has lectures on religion, by a Protestant minister, for the Prot- 
estant girls; and by a Romanist, for those of her own creed. 
Indeed, the classes are mostly under the care of professors who 
come at stated hours to the class-rooms, there being but two or 
three teachers resident in the house, these being ladies. This 
way of securing able instructors is an excellent one, and quite 
practicable in a city of learning like Freiburg. 

There was a simple prayer before each meal, and thanksgiving 
after it ; on Sunday night, Fraulein led in repeating the Lord's 
prayer, with a moment for silent devotion. I saw in her character 
such honesty, such rigorous truthfulness, such kindness and rev- 
erence for the truly sacred, I loved this Catholic sister. We had 
no controversy over differences, for they were not brought for- 
ward. As she is remembered, the Saviour's- words come to mind, 
" And other sheep I have, which are not of this fold." One day, 
after attending a telephone concert, the school enjoyed a prome- 
nade in an open square, listening to fine music performed in honor 
of the distinguished scholars visiting Freiburg. The citizens were 



53 

out for a social time in true German fashion. We walked up and 
down in two bands, Fraulein heading one and the Hofrath the 
other. I had the honor of walking after this distinguished gentle- 
man, as a soldier follows a commander, at a distance. Having, by 
many inquiries and some research, discovered the whereabouts of 
the Baptist Lokal, I made my way there on Sunday. It was in a 
short and not attractive street called Convictstrasse, a room in the 
second story of a dwelling-house. The congregation consisted of 
about twenty-five persons. The pastor, Herr Prediger Haag, was 
absent that day, preaching at a village where there are sixty Bap- 
tist members to whom also he acts as pastor. The preaching was 
by a brother who takes Herr Haag's place in his absence, and who 
gave me a kind greeting as we left the place. I was invited to visit 
at the pastor's house, and did so the next Saturday, finding him- 
self and wife, and a sister E., who resides with them, at home. 
Pastor Haag is a Bavarian by birth, and speaks German with a 
peculiarly clear and correct enunciation. He began to preach 
very early in life ; but became a Baptist in later years. Although 
he has been blind since the age of twelve, his presence is well 
fitted to inspire not pity, but a tender respect, that has in it some- 
what of veneration, though he is not yet old. He seems well 
endowed with natural gifts, among which are common sense and 
an uncommon memory. He takes an American paper, and seems 
informed of current events. He reads raised text, having the 
Bible complete in this form. I learned from him that Baptist 
sentiments were first promulgated at the village, where most of 
his people live, by Prussian soldiers who came there at the call of 
war. The Church of Freiburg was formed thirteen years before 
my visit, though there had been a few Baptists there for many 
years previous. 

Sister E. told me of the departed Lehmann, and also of Oncken, 
at that time aged and broken in mind at Zurich, but since dead. 
She said there were other evangelical workers in Freiburg, who 
requested to have an expression of fellowship from the Baptists. 
At this she rejoiced, thinking it would strengthen the influence of 
the little unknown band of Baptists to be recognized and sup- 
ported by others who believe in spirituality above forms. 



CHAPTER XX. 

BLEFT BE THE TIE THAT BINDS.' 



On the last Sunday of my stay at Freiburg, I went to the cathe- 
dral, and remained standing awhile in the crowd who were listening 
to the discourse of a priest in showy robes. He spoke of Alex- 
ander I., a patron saint in whose honor the day was kept as a 
"high day." Brilliant banners were arrayed within the Miinster, 



54 WAYMARKS. 

and there was a rich display of sacerdotal vestments upon the 
priests. On one side stood a plumed and gilded bier supporting 
an image of the saint. This image was formerly borne about the 
city with a procession ; but evidently the time for such a perform- 
ance is past in Freiburg. Passing out I met a band of maidens in 
white, with crowns of white roses, and with long veils floating 
from their heads. In striking contrast with all these things, was 
the scene at the Baptist Lokal that morning, when Pastor Haag 
preached from John xiv. 21. Keeping close to his wonderful text, 
he heartily poured forth exhortation and comfort, exalting the love 
of Christ. 

At his wife's earnest request, I went to their home at mid-day 
and dined with them. Their three sons are named Nathaniel, 
Joshua, and Titus, with reference to signification. It was beautiful 
to witness the quiet, tender manifestations of love and confidence 
toward the pastor in his own home. His excellent wife attends to 
the practical duties of their life in such a helpful, loving spirit, I 
did not wonder at the appreciation in which he spoke of the great 
blessing she was to him. When we parted he cordially expressed 
thanks for the visit, asked me to pray for him, and sent his warm 
greeting to the American brothers and sisters. An aged sister, 
too, who attended the morning meeting, sent her greeting to the 
American brothers and sisters. She was seventy-two years old, 
the last survivor of her family. She had been a Baptist twenty- 
six years. Pointing above, she said, " I shall soon depart." 

When, on returning from the afternoon service, I reached the 
doors of Institute B., the situation was a little like that of Paul, 
when, as he records, " they brought us on our way with wives and 
children ; " for I was accompanied by quite a delegation from the 
friends, all eager to catch a parting word, and one, a bright youth, 
wishing he too were going to America. 

Two days afterward, I parted from the kind friends at Institute 
B., and began my journey to Paris. Fraulein wished forme God's 
blessing in a most loving way. Her sister rode to the station, and 
helped me with my arrangements thoughtfully. I left Freiburg 
laden with rich memories, but still, as Fraulein Julie writes, a 
comparative stranger to the beauties lurking in those regions of 
the Black Forest, which I had but begun to explore. It rained as I 
entered the hotel at Strasburg, where I had been counselled to 
spend the night. But the rain proving but slight, I ventured out 
again to see the cathedral, which had afforded such delight on my 
previous visit. Not finding the way directly, I passed around by 
the Church of St. Thomas, that would have been an interesting 
study, had there been no greater attraction to draw me away. A 
monument to the honor of Gutenberg, in a little square, detained 
me awhile with its fine expressive statue, and bas-reliefs illustrat- 
ing the results of the invention of printing, through Christian 
education. About its base, however, played very neglected-looking 
children. 



"blest be the tie that binds." 55 

A woman pushing a hand-cart through a narrow street, took 
much pains to see that I did not lose my path to the cathedral, 
after I had asked its direction. And so at length its facade, more 
magnificent and towering than recollection had pictured, rose in 
dark grandeur before me. It was getting dusky, and to enter the 
vast nave impressed the imagination for an instant with awe. 

There was time to listen to the half-hour striking of the clock, 
and to witness the symbolism of youth passing over life's stage ; 
then to wait or wander about until the three-quarter stroke, when 
the figure of the man appearing and vanishing at the inexorable 
summons of time, gave place to stillness and growing shadows. 

It was a little past 6 a.m. as I rode out of Strasburg in a coupe* 
for ladies. The day proved rather misty, and at nightfall it really 
rained. One of my travelling-companions could speak a little Eng- 
lish, and engaged to assist me on reaching Paris as I might need. 
Another talked pleasantly to me of the country through which we 
passed, and of France in general. There were some pretty towns 
in the province of Champagne ; but it was surprising to see vast 
tracts of land, where there was not a dwelling, owned by rich pro- 
prietors resident perhaps in Paris, at least during much of the year. 
When, after such lone scenes, Paris appears, first by pleasant 
shady suburbs, like outer petals with green calyxes, and then by 
fair streets, where marble palaces thickly cluster, interspersed 
with columns and statues, it is easy to call this city the flower of 
France, gathering its life and beauty largely into itself. 

We each had our lunch with us ; and all, except the American 
lady, were well provided with wine. At Paris there was " hurry- 
ing to and fro " about baggage ; but at last I was seated in a car- 
riage, riding through the rain to Neuilly, where, at the residence 
of Madame M., I was expected. The Arc de Triomphe de VEtoile 
was recognized at once from pictures seen before ; only it is 
really more noble than its representations. Then we pass the 
Octroi, or town-due office, where toll must be paid by the coach- 
man. Soon we were in a court-yard, before a door, and next came 
shelter, rest and kindness. 

Madame M. is a member of the sect of Freres, or Brethren, 
known sometimes as Darbyists, from Lord Darby, who was a leader 
among them. The children of the Madame were interesting and 
intelligent. There was in her household an Irish gentleman of 
remarkable piety, who was a mute, a member also of the Freres, 
and ambitious of spreading abroad a knowledge of the Gospel. It 
was to me a novel idea, that of teaching his sign-language to bar- 
barians in lieu of learning their tongues ; but he held this theory 
in regard to mission-work. Of course the sign-language is the 
same for all nations. I had not been long in the house of Madame 
M., when I was puzzled at hearing often outside of my door a very 
high-toned and peculiar voice. The thought occurred that there 
might be some member of the household, to whom I had not been 
introduced, who labored under some infirmity. At length the 



56 WAYMARKS. 

mystery was solved. One of the Madame's servants was also a 
mute, but had learned to vocalize. Though unable to modulate her 
tones euphoniously, she could comprehend the conversation of 
others, and make herself understood by speech ; thus proving the 
utility of the method by which she had been taught. 

I worshipped one Sunday with the Freres. They have no sal- 
aried ministry ; but on this occasion were much delighted to have 
a visit from Mr. Howe, of England, a reviser of Lord Darby's 
translation of the Bible, and a talented expounder of its truths. 
From his discourse I gathered such thoughts as these : " The 
Saviour not only entered heaven at His ascension, but traversed its 
courts, and took His place at the right hand of God the Father. 
He promised to His disciples not simply a place in heaven, but in 
His Father's house with Him. If they are to enjoy a place with 
Him in heaven, what is their place below ? It is His place." 

The Freres look constantly for the coming of Christ to earth 
again. They partook of the communion, each breaking for him- 
self a piece of bread from the loaf. No invitation was extended to 
the stranger present to share, nor did the stranger feel in the 
least disturbed by such " close " adherence to their own idea of 
order, believing that in religious observances conscience comes 
before compliments. Yet "the word of God is not bound ; " and 
there could come to all sacred thoughts, as we sat together in a 
quiet room, with green trees waving just outside the open win- 
dows. And this was in Paris — the gay, worldly, fickle, but splen- 
did, city ! What quiet corners the Lord can make in every place 
for His own ! 



CHAPTER XXI. 

REFRESHING CLUSTERS HERE AND THERE. 

My first excursion into the centre of Paris was to the banking 
house of Hottinguer & Co., and gave a little insight into the rules 
of Paris tramways. From stations located at various points of a 
grand circle around the Arc de Triomphe lines diverge toward all 
points of Paris and the suburbs beyond the fortifications that are 
close at hand. On a crowded route it is necessary to take one of 
the numbered tickets found on the counter in the station-office, 
and when the car waits before it, and the conductor calls out the 
number held, respond at once, and enter the car. 

Over-crowding is not allowed. If a passenger wishes to go on a 
route beyond and adjoining that of the car first taken, a "cor- 
respondence" ticket is given, to be presented on the second tram- 
way. This ticket entitles to the second route, so that riding is 
very cheap at Paris. It can be especially so, if one takes a place 
on the roof of the car, where there are comfortable seats. To go 



REFRESHING CLUSTERS HERE AND THERE. 57 

beyond the fortifications of Paris, as at Neuilly, the fare is a little 
increased. No one stands inside a Paris street car. No matter 
what the weather, all who stand must occupy the outside plat- 
forms. To avoid doing so in the rain, I waited at a station one 
evening on returning from a city excursion until rather late, and, 
taking by mistake a car going back into Paris for one going to- 
ward Neuilly, was obliged to descend in the midst of one of the 
great thoroughfares, quite in alarm at this extraordinary position. 
Seeing the lights of a pharmacy, I entered and asked advice of the 
gentleman in attendance. He went out on the sidewalk, and, 
pointing to a street car, told me I had better climb to its top and 
take a seat vacated by a passenger who was just alighting. I did 
so, thus making my debut on the upper " boards " of a tramway on 
a stormy night. As I sat there, trying to shield myself from the 
damp wind by my shawl, a fellow-passenger attempted a civil con- 
versation on the weather. Finding he had addressed a foreigner, 
who did not claim to represent England, his curiosity seemed 
aroused, yet he managed with French politeness to introduce an 
amusing compliment before relapsing into silence. He appeared 
like an artisan returning from his daily toil, and soon descended 
the steep little stairs of the cars, bidding me good-night as he de- 
parted. What strange little gleams of amusement will often play 
across our most perplexed moods ? 

My hostess, Madame M., being of Swiss birth, did not adhere 
very closely to Parisian ideas and customs. Indeed, she seldom 
went out of Neuilly, and evidently either gave me credit for sagac- 
ity, or else had a slight idea of the difficulties in first finding my 
way about Paris. 

Understanding her to pilose a visit to the Louvre with her- 
self, I accompanied her very gayly, taking a tramway through the 
bright Champs Elysees and the Place de la Concorde, which I 
knew at once, with its imposing array of architectural triumphs. 
Here where the impress of modern change has scarcely hardened 
into historic firmness, one of Egypt's coveted " needles " stands 
out alone, conspicuous in its quaint antiquity, like some old heir- 
loom brought from a forsaken garret to adorn a Fifth Avenue par- 
lor, because it has become the " style " to have it there. 

Arrived in the crowded Hue Bivoli, to my surprise, Madame 
prepared to leave me, supposing I could easily find the Louvre 
alone. I soon reached the great edifice placarded " Hotel " and 
" Magasin " du Louvre. The Magasin du Louvre is one of the 
most magnificent stores of Paris, excelling in its displays of femi- 
nine costumes. But large purses are in demand there. It is said 
that Parisian ladies know how to attire themselves in taste and 
elegance at a moderate expense. But strangers sometime find 
prices quite high, as when a Parisian dressmaker offered to make 
me a dinner dress, without train, of silk and cashmere, for some- 
thing like $320. It is true the front breadth was brocaded with 
flowers, and the effect quite handsome. But I was not tempted. 



58 WAYMARKS. 

Across the street from the Louvre store, or collection of stores, 
I found the Louvre palace. 

The immense galleries of this edifice are free to the public. 
They are built around an open square, where children play beside 
their nurses, and visitors saunter to and fro, passing in and out of 
the great open passages through each of the four sides. During 
the Siege of Paris the windows of the Louvre were barricaded 
with bags of sand, and some of its most valued treasures stored 
underground. 

The paintings occupy the second stories, while the lower galleries 
are crowded with sculj^tures and antiquities. 

Here one can walk in still halls surrounded with the treasures 
of old Phoenicia, or the spoils of the Assyrian Empire, gathered like 
stranded relics after their famous civilizations had sunk down 
wrecked and engulfed by the waves of desolation. Yet these 
relics are full of import to nations now in power ; full of testimony 
to the truth of sacred records, the word of Him who " shook the 
kingdoms," who " stained the pride of ' Tyre the crowning city,' " 
and said to the daughter of Zidon, " Thou shalt no more rejoice." 
.Here, too, one can sit down amid sarcophagi, grotesque statues, 
and great crouching sphynxes, all in stone, and dream how the 
quenchless desire for immortality in the Egyptian soul is made 
manifest by the mute yet strong witness of the engraven and sym- 
bolic rock. 

During my second visit to the Louvre, I found my way to an 
tipper story, where was an apartment containing illustrations in 
bas-relief and painting of the Suez Canal, and the way in which its 
completion was celebrated. But the most of my time was spent 
among the paintings on the second floors. Here were artists, young 
and aged, copying the originals of celebrated painters so nicely 
that one could almost wonder in what the copies are inferior. Oh, 
the Madonnas, showing such variety of conceptions emanating 
from the same general idea ! Here are feasts on feasts that the 
wearying powers cannot digest in the few hours usually devoted 
to them. How can one appreciate a tithe of this beauty spread 
out on canvas by the mile ! Grand paintings, rich mosaics and 
superb frescoes blend at length into a bewildering conglomeration, 
and one is glad to rest from that to which aspiration had long- 
been turning. I passed through the Gallery of Bologne quite 
hurriedly, but lingered for some time in the Salle Carree, where I 
contemplated especially the "Assumption," by Murillo, and a 
gorgeous representation of the marriage feast at Can a, that hangs 
opposite to it. The painter of this feast has depicted the scene as 
one of great brilliance and luxury. 

It seems that there is a peculiar softness of coloring and purity 
of expression in the figures by Murillo ; and, as one who is un- 
skilled and inexperienced in art may simply state an impression, 
I venture the thought that while many artists may be exact and 
yet noble in execution, Murillo excelled also in blending his 



59 

touches, so that they melt into each other, until the effect is like 
that which is produced by the natural development of beauteous 
life. His pictures of the Saviour and John the Baptist as boys are 
most beautiful. 

To go from the Louvre to the Church of Notre Dame was to 
leave little capacity for the appreciation of the latter, save as a 
place, where, before a few candles lighting the solemn grandeur of 
the interior, I could rest awhile undisturbed. The pageantry of 
royal processions had glowed within those walls ; tumult and cruel 
insurrection had surged around them. 

But now all was still, and as the day declined a few souls stole 
there to kneel, sensible of a need that in itself is a proof that there 
exists an answering Power to supply ; of a yearning that is really 
a sign of corresponding sympathy — according to the simple testi- 
mony of reason — and yet how wantonly has reason been miscon- 
strued and caricatured in that vicinity. But the darkness has 
passed somewhat, we trust, and the " true light " begins to shine. 
After a short stay in the church, I walked in a neighboring street, 
and before returning to Neuilly took a luncheon of grapes. This 
caused my weary eyes to be " enlightened," as were those of Jon- 
athan, Saul's son, by tasting the honey ; as I had that morning 
been reading. 

I had the pleasure of meeting a pleasant circle of Freres and 
other Christians at Madame M.'s. One evening Mr. Lowe, the 
preacher of the previous Sunday, dined with us, and afterward 
conducted a Bible study in the parlor, his subject being the 
eleventh chapter of Genesis. He spoke of Abraham's faith, and 
God's method of giving grace, according to Himself, and not ac- 
cording to men's ideas of what the character of the recipent indi- 
cates. Mr. Lowe approaches the Scriptures with marked reverence, 
and deprecates mere human speculation concerning that of which 
they teach. 



CHAPTER XXII. 

"the house of my master's brethren." 

One is not apt to live much in the world of books when travel- 
ling ; nor would this be an economical use of opportunities. But 
a book now and then is a pleasant rest from sight-seeing. I read 
at Paris the famous dramatic poem of the " Cid, " by Pierre Corneille. 
It abounds in maxims and motives appropriate to a civilization 
tinged by barbarism, and, though fascinating in its powerful inter- 
est, would be a savage tale if stripped of its rythmic beauty and 
choice expressions. Before reading it, I had but lately finished a 
perusal in snatches of Mr. Black's "Princess of Thule," where 
we have no pictures of carnage or contention; but where in a 



60 WAYMARKS. 

material setting of earth and sea and sky is painted heart conflict 
and triumph, the light and shadow of peace and sorrow playing 
among human experiences, like sunshine and cloud-shade about 
the coast of the Hebrides. Mr. Black is a great word painter of 
marine views, and a good delineator of passion and sentiment. 

Yet can he ever attain the purest flights of fancy, or minister to 
his age the noblest lessons, while in his scenes whiskey and nico- 
tian fumes nullify each savor of wildwood plant, and each delicate 
aroma of sea billows borne shoreward by pure Atlantic zephyrs ? 

One day I enjoyed with Madame M. a delightful ride past the 
Trocadero, a palace finely located, and containing treasures acces- 
sible to the public view, and passed grounds wiiere graceful stat- 
ues gleamed like white sylphs in green vistas, while evening lights 
began to shine among the trees of the "Elysian fields." We were 
that evening received as guests at the tasteful home of two Irish 
ladies. After dinner, at which Mr. Lowe and several other Freres 
were present, we took bibles and listened to his exposition of the 
fourth, fifth and sixth chapters of Leviticus. He explained the dif- 
ference between the single idea conveyed by the word transgres- 
sion, and that of wilful sm,for which the Law made no provision. 
Some of his leading thoughts, as nearly as retained, were these : 
In chapter four, degrees of personal position or rank are noticed ; 
in chapter five, degrees of ability, as regards means. The meat of- 
fering described in chapter six is a bloodless rite ; and so an excep- 
tion to the offerings among which it is mentioned. Yet fire, which 
symbolizes judgment, is always required. Fine flour represents 
Christ's perfection of humanity. Salt, typical of grace, must ever 
accompany the sacrifices. In chapter five we see that though a 
soul may have transgressed ignorantly, yet he is reckoned guilty, 
unless atonement is made. And thus, in the Epistle to the Eomans, 
we find that the Law, however broken, must be respected by 
amends. In Hebrews we learn of Sanctification, which has respect 
to the soul for which atonement has been made ; in Ephesians 
we are led on in the contemplation of the marvellous loving-kind- 
ness and holy favor, which crowns the believer through Him, by 
whom he has received forgiveness of sin. By this devout study of 
truth, the social enjoyments of the time were not lessened ; but 
the occasion was lifted up to become in memory like one of those 
headlands, whose beacon light shines far out over stormy waves to 
cheer and guide, long after the voyager has sailed beyond it. 

I formed a pleasant acquaintance with Madame Lepoids, whose 
husband was then pastor of the Baptist Church of Paris, and her 
daughters. The church numbered about one hundred and thirty- 
seven members, whose homes were scattered and whose means 
were small. But there were four theological students among 
them, who did evangelical work about the city, or in connection 
with the McCall Mission. On the second Sunday of my stay I 
attended the services at the Baptist Church in Bue de Lille. 
Pastor Lepoids was absent ; but another minister preached a 



61 

heart-searching discourse on the danger of cherishing " evil 
thoughts," which are fountains of all wrong-doing. It was com- 
munion-day ; and "in the multitude of my thoughts within 
me, thy comforts delighted my soul." Is Christ risen? Then 
He will fulfill His plan concerning the " kingdoms of this 
world ; " then they who ' ' sleep in Jesus " are with Him ; then 
"we shall be like Him ; for we shall see Him as He is." How 
much the doctrine of the Resurrection involves ! How significant 
even is the great symbol rite, that sets it forth before men of all 
languages in a way to be understood by them, whether on the 
banks of the Nile, the Ganges, the Seine, or the Mississippi. 

After the services, there was a time of kind greetings, in which 
I had a good share. Then Mademoiselle M. Lepoids walked out 
with me to attend a McCall Mission meeting at the station at No. 
404 Rue St. Honore. Crossing, a bridge of the Seine, near Rue 
de Lille, we loitered by the way among the blooming parterres of 
the public grounds, as it was early. Thus we had an opportunity 
to talk of various things, among them of the work of an English 
lady in establishing a home for working-girls at Paris. 

The attendants at the services in Rue St. Honore were mostly 
well-dressed, attentive people, who seemed to have been there 
often before ; but probably at the newer stations, and those in 
less attractive quarters, the scene would have been different. Mr. 
McCall conducted the exercises. One would not have selected 
him, from his appearance, as the prime mover in the great and 
spreading mission enterprise that bears his name. He looks like 
a staid conservative clergyman, who would be content to do a 
faithful life-work in his own parish in England or America. He is 
tall and spare, with thin gray locks. His wife is rosy and fair ; 
full of life and music, judging from the animated way in which 
she played the organ. There were direct, earnest addresses from 
Mr. Saillens, a pleasant-faced, dark-haired man of about thirty, 
and others, who called on those present to make life's grand deci- 
sion. At last an English gentleman spoke at some length, Mr. 
Saillens translating, with remarkable fidelity and grace, his very 
long sentences. The English brother's remarks were warm and 
good; but if he had shortened his sentences it might not have 
taxed the brain so much to have interpreted them. He had doubt- 
less never translated for another in public. 

At the close, I started with Miss Rostan, a lady whom I had 
met before, to find a railway car near the Madeleine. We had 
hard work to cross the streets, now crowded with equipages 
returning from pleasure-drives, and entered by mistake a car 
going to the wrong Porte, or city gate, at least for me. The error 
was not discovered until Miss Rostan had left the tramway for her 
home, and I was threading my way in darkness in a suburban 
street. A lady who was passing with a gentleman kindly under- 
took to assist me, and I was soon on another car. But this, alas, 
proved wrong, and I was obliged in much distress of mind to 



62 WAYMARKS. 

start on foot in search of the Avenue de Neuilly through quite a 
lonely quarter. I was very glad to encounter a lady going the 
same way, who allowed me to go with her as far as her destination, 
and even offered cordially to go farther. Through her assistance, 
and a little farther help, I reached the home of Madame M. as 
the family were at dinner, having had, as a gentleman present 
remarked, after learning my adventures, ' ' assez de promenades " 
—enough of promenading — for that day. And yet that day had 
crowned with realization one great desire of my heart — to see for 
myself something of God's wonderful revival work in France. So 
our life attainments are mixed with difficulties, and reached often 
through fears and dangers. 

I learned from a guest of Madame M., that there is still in mis- 
sion work at Paris a great lack of men who know how to adapt 
their words to the comprehension of the class who have never 
before heard phrases so common in prayer-meetings, and who 
often wonder what is meant by the language addressed to them. 
Personal labor for uninstructed souls requires simplicity, patience, 
and self-forgetfulness. It requires consecrated tact everywhere. 
I was told of great readiness to receive religious teaching among 
the sailors at Havre, in country places, and among the laboring 
classes at Paris ; yet laborers were few. " When the poor and 
needy seek water, and there is none, and their tongue faileth 
for thirst, I, the Lord, will hear them," is an encouraging promise. 



CHAPTEE XXIII. 



DESOLATE PALACES AND CROWDED BENCHES. DEAD KINGS AND LIVING 

CHTLDEEN. 

"I love to go into the Madeleine and say my prayers," said a 
very lively young girl to me one day. She had little reverence for 
sacred things, judging from the rash words she sometimes spoke ; 
and yet in this great church, that spreads its stately colonnades like 
sheltering pinions at the meeting of ways in the heart of Paris, 
she felt her heart grow restful, as she whispered the sacred words 
learned in childhood. I waited awhile in its courts one lonely 
day, but not as those who knelt before its pallid images, as though 
there were help in them for the " pathos of human life." 

From the Madeleine, I went to call on an American lady, in Rue 
Louis le Grand. Before reaching the place sought for, I dis- 
covered that a certain street number stood for several entrances ; 
while one entrance might lead to quite a series of residences on 
flats. So there was a complication of little difficulties in the way 
before I ascertained that the lady sought had left Paris. As I 
went out into the streets again, I felt in a mood just suited to 
throw into bright relief the name of the Cunard Steamship Line 



DESOLATE PALACES AND CROWDED BENCHES. 63 

from Liverpool to America, that was painted in large letters on the 
windows of an office close at hand. I grasped the handle of the 
door, and very soon after had received the refusal of a state-room 
on one of their steamers. 

This was like nearing " my own native land." I could now, at 
leisure, and with a lighter heart, saunter before the gay windows 
of the Boulevard, and survey the brilliancies of Paris streets, with 
the dignity of a woman whose "local habitation" seemed like a 
reality — a woman with a country ! If to have a country and a 
home is cheering to a traveller while still in distance, how much 
more cheering is the consciousness that in all life's wanderings 
one is not a waif ; but a citizen of a " city that hath foundations," 
a dwelling place yet to be possessed, and growing more and more 
a reality, as the scenes of time change and dissolve about us ? 

What has cold negative unbelief to substitute for this " hope 
which is as an anchor to the soul ? " It is such a mistake to speak 
of unbelief as an entity, a possession. It is void, it is poverty, it 
is darkness, it is the absence of hope. But trust is in itself a "joy, 
a possession, a support, a present rest, to say nothing of it being, 
as we believe, the earnest of "an inheritance incorruptible and 
undefiled, and that fadeth not away, reserved in heaven." 

We had much cold, rainy weather during those October days at 
Paris. On one of these, I went out to lunch by invitation, with 
Miss Rostan, formerly a well-known instructress of young ladies 
in New York City, but a native of France, and at present conduct- 
ing a very pleasant kind of Home for Americans visiting Paris, at 
No. 37 Rue Galilee, Champs Elysees. 

Very pleasant was the bright fire in her little study, as I sat 
talking with her friend Mile. K., or listened to herself, while she 
unfolded her cherished scheme to found an endowed institution 
for retired American teachers, in order to afford them rest and in- 
dependence in declining years. The loss of a considerable per- 
sonal fortune, and of such helpers as Horace Greeley and Admiral 
Farragut, who had once shown much interest in her plans, had 
been crushing blows to her hopes ; yet she had not relinquished 
her noble expectation to do something to bless the older members 
of a profession she had herself been permitted to adorn. 

On a bright day I started for Cook's Tourist office, to join one 
of his parties going to Versailles. His coach had already started ; 
but, after buying a ticket to London, I took the steam railway for 
Versailles. This afforded fine views of Parisian suburbs. By taking 
a carriage at the Versailles station, I reached the Grand Trianon in 
time to join the Cook party just as they were about to enter the 
palace. We went through apartment after apartment once familiar to 
Louis XIV., Madame Maintenon, Napoleon I. and Josephine, and so 
many well-known personages of history. We then went to gaze 
on the magnificent gilded chariots of state, in which the Napoleons 
had sat when at the zenith of their power and pride. We saw the 
carriage that had borne Josephine away after her divorce ; as well 



64 WAYMAEKS. 

as those from which she had looked forth in her deceitful pros- 
perity. I thought of Eugenie's heights and depths of experience, 
and of how much heart-sorrow and disappointment it had cost to 
have once looked triumphantly from behind those golden and em- 
broidered panels ; and did not envy monarchs. At the high, paved 
court fronting the grand Palace of Versailles we paused, where 
the treasures of an oppressed people had been recklessly poured 
forth at the shrine of royal extravagance, and looked toward 
the balcony, where Louis XVI. had shown iris young sou, the 
Dauphin, to the raging populace, thus vainly hopiug to appease 
their wrath. Within the palace we saw the little door by which 
Marie Antoinette passed to a stair-case in the time of terror, when 
even her faithful Swiss guards were shot down around her. 

One of the chambers of this palace was fitted up for Queen 
Victoria in 1846. She did not, however, occupy it. The whole 
palace abounds in works of art, and one passes through hall after 
hall, each seeming a great gallery of paintings or sculpture, yet 
having over all such a spell of association with souls departed 
that one almost feels as if their shades were hovering about the 
places that once " knew them " in life. One of the pictures that 
most attracted my notice, was that of the Coronation of Josephine 
in Notre Dame ; another was a scene from the retreat of Napo- 
leon's army from Moscow. The shadows of night enhance the 
dreariness of the picture, where the sick and dying are crouching 
in the snow of the desolate Russian winter. The many, many 
representations . of d war and daring witness to the seas of blood 
through which France has waded to her present position, which, 
after all, may have in it, too many elements of suspense and agita- 
tion to be quite restful to her statesmen. Among these it does 
not appear that she has a single masterly soul, such as Germany 
boasts in Bismarck, who is naturally no favorite with the French, 
whom he has helped to subdue outwardly. If one such ever 
arises, it is to be hoped he will not be an ambitious man. It is a 
question if his absence is not a blessing to this nation, sorely 
wounded in pride, and ever ready to spring into action. The 
faces of her dead kings and leaders look solemnly down, from can- 
vas and stony pedestal in her untenanted palace halls, like moni- 
tors, who, could they speak, would warn France to shun in future 
the fatal errors of the past. 

And yet, standing at the upper windows of the great royal ball- 
room at Versailles, looking down its glittering vista within, and 
then forth on its fair gardens of many fountains, where beauty, 
fragrance, and melody were environed and defended by martial 
displays dazzling to surrounding courts, it was not hard to believe 
that men could be deceived, and bewildered by the glory and 
pomp of kingly power. Still, when we had left those marble walls 
behind us, and were talking of the cost that royal empire had 
been to the poor of France in olden days, it did not seem strange 
that there had been anarchy and revolution among them. 



DESOLATE PALACES AND CROWDED BENCHES. C>5 

On our return to the city we visited the Museum at Sevres, 
admiring much the copies of paintings from the Louvre in porce- 
lain. As we rode into Paris, the glow of a bright sunset was still 
in the west, though the evening lights had begun to glitter 
among the grounds along the banks of the Seine. As we passed 
the Trocadero, the enchanting pictures spread on either side were 
a fitting finale to the panorama of the day. The next afternoon 
I had a rapid glance at the Hotel des Invalides, and visited the 
celebrated "Bon Marche " — a store somewhat on the plan of 
Macy's in New York, and thronged like that. It has a reading- 
room, where visitors can sit and write letters, if they wish. A 
light lunch is served to all who wish it, gratuitously, I believe. 

My last Paris excursion was to the mission school of Madame 
Lemaire, in Bue de Vanves, No. 49. It was a long way from 
Neuilly, and past the vicinity of the Luxembourg Palace. The 
schoolroom was off the street, its glass doors opening on a little 
garden. Nearly eighty young children were gathered in a room 
far too small. They had been learning to sew, both boys and 
girls. A gentleman was telling them a story, with forbearance 
for its moral. Then they sang very prettily, and were dismissed, 
after receiving cards and papers, which seemed most welcome. 
Much similar work could be done in Paris if Protestants were 
willing to undertake it ; and if supplemented by orphanages and 
dispensaries w r ould promise great results for good. If wisdom 
and knowledge are in the hearts of children, we may hope for the 
" stability of the times " to come. 

I returned toward Neuilly by the steam railway line, which 
encircles Paris, and by which a good general idea of its environs 
may be gained. 

That night, my last in Paris, a scene of that day rose vividly 
to mind before I slept. It was the vision of a little boy, with a 
pallid face, and that high-shouldered appearance that betokens 
incipient distortion. He had been brought into a stage where I 
was sitting by a woman who appeared to be his mother, or grand- 
mother. She looked careworn, and coughed at times. The boy's 
back was toward me, but a sight I caught of his face, which was 
interesting and intelligent, went straight to my heart. As we 
passed the Louvre, with its parterres of blooming flowers, the 
little fellow stretched out his thin arm, and, pointing as if to call 
attention to the flowers, said something in a sweet silver tone of 
pleasure. I had longed to speak to him, or his friend, but they 
soon descended from the stage, leaving me to recall them in the 
night season, and often since then, with a strange mysterious 
tenderness. I have come to set him in remembrance and imagi- 
nation as a representative child, his finger pointing to beauty, 
and his plaintive voice expressing joy, according to the sensitive, 
beauty-loving French nature ; while his pathetic little figure 
suggests the painful distortion of soul imminent to the little ones 
of Europe's central nation, and the world's metropolis, unless the 



6t> WAYMARKS. 

Gospel of the grace of God is given to nourish them early. May 
the Good Shepherd gather in His arms the little children of 
France, and lead her people, scarred by many conflicts, and shaken 
by many tumults, into the green pastures and beside the still 
waters of the Elysian Fields of His Peace ! 



CHAPTER XXIV. 

AMONG " FOOTPEINTS ON THE SANDS OF TIME." 

Aftee a kind parting from Paris friends, and a quiet, pleasant 
journey to Calais, I was favored with a calm passage across the 
English Channel. At Dover I was assigned to a compartment by 
myself, in a long train that waited at the station until I had eaten 
my lunch, in the restful way of those who have secured good 
seats, and checked their baggage in ample season. Just before 
starting, however, there sprang into my thoughts the goading idea, 
that, even if a person has registered baggage at Paris for London, 
they may have to see it inspected personally when on the borders 
of Britain. Knocking against the locked door, I attracted the 
notice of a guard, who let me out in a hurry, ran with me to 
the Custom Office, and, when my trunk was passed through, saw it 
in rapid style transported to the train, whose engine was already, 
as it were, on tip-toe with impatience to be gone. Running be- 
hind your trunk the length of -a waiting train lacks the dignity of 
an Olympic race, but in my case the goal was reached in very good 
time. A person runs better after a long, deliberate rest. 

I was soon speeding on to London by moonlight, meditating 
and watching the landscape, with its twinkling cottage windows 
growing more and more numerous as we came nearer the great 
city. It was like having the world all to one's self, drawn on by 
invisible powers along its surface. But at last came glimpses of 
long, lighted streets ; we were on the great viaduct. We were at 
the station, and the mazes of London were below and around us. 
I was part of its life, and realized my relations to cabman, porter, 
official, and even the various gentlemen who attended my carriage 
as it turned out of the Strand, and who were eager, for a penny or 
two, to open its door, grasp my effects, and ring the bell at my 
old friend Mrs. B.'s, where they awaited my coming, and where 
I seemed among old acquaintances. Especially was this so, as I 
found several of her boarders, whom I met there before, had come 
back again, like myself, for a short stay. 

The next day found me at famous Paternoster Row, or searching 
among the stores of St. Paul's Church-yard, or gazing into Strand 
windows. Sunday morning a coach, starting from Charing Cross, 
took me near the Tabernacle, where the Rev. Charles H. Spurgeon 
preaches weekly to rapt thousands. I was not very early, but on 



FOOTPRINTS ON THE SANDS OF TIME." 67 

ascending to the second gallery I was ushered to a good seat. It 
is not necessary to be near the preacher in order to hear, or to be 
learned in order to understand him. His voice is clear, and his 
language and illustrations so plain that children can comprehend 
liim. He prayed as one who draws near with a hungry heart, de- 
pendent and expectant of blessing. His comments and sermon 
were very practical. The text was Mark ix. 23 : " Jesus said 
unto him, if thou canst believe, all things are possible to him that 
believeth," from which the preacher inferred that we also must 
expect blessings proportioned to our faith. He believed that 
faith is not easily understood, because of its very simplicity ; and 
therefore, if in every sermon and every tract it were explained, it 
could scarcely be too much described. He labored most faith- 
fully to make the way of salvation through faith clear to all who 
were present ; and evidently aimed for present results on hearts 
and consciences. One of his illustrations was of a thirsty child, 
to whom a mug is given, that he may go to the near spring and 
help himself to water freely. The child may say, " This mug is 
not clean; so I cannot use it." This is the way of a man who 
looks at his faith, and questions if it is pure enough to save him. 
The child might say, ' ' I cannot take this mug to the spring ; for 
my finger is not clean.' 1 He should run to the sj^ring and hold 
the mug or finger under the water, if either need cleansing. But 
he should not do without the water. 

Faith may be trembling ; but if it can only grasp Christ, in 
whom is salvation, it will do. Just as a palsied hand may rest on 
a strong arm and be supported. 

It is pleasant to see crowds attracted to hear the simple Gospel 
from this preacher's lips. For many years various "winds of doc- 
trine " have beat about his ears ; bright intellects have blazed 
from pulpits abroad and near ; many chances have arisen to use 
other weapons than the Sword of the Spirit, and to display his 
great native wit in meeting human philosophies with their like ; 
but Mr. Spurgeon, thus far, stands firm to his great theme — Jesus 
Christ, aud Him crucified. May his star never set amid the 
shades of pride and vain speculations ! Would that many an- 
other man might learn from his example what power is in the sim- 
plicity that is in Christ ! 

This congregation sang harmoniously and grandly, led by a pre- 
centor, without choir or organ. 

At evening I went with Mrs. B. and others to St. Clement Dane's 
Episcopal Church. The old edifice in its interior seemed to me 
very complete and harmonious in design and finish. In one of 
the galleries " Bare Ben. Jonson " used to have his pew. I was 
interested in the sermon on Daniel's fidelity to principle. One 
part of it surprised me, however — where the preacher described the 
imposing manner of worship in Heaven, and argued thence that 
we ought to have the externals of worship rich and costly here on 
earth. The music was fine ; there being a choir of sweet- voiced boys. 



08 WAYMARKS. 

Monday was a fatiguing clay, largely devoted to business. 
Among places sought out was the banking house of Brown, Ship- 
ley & Co., at Founders Court, Lothbury. I found it not far from 
the Bank of England, and in the neighborhood of many noble and 
interesting edifices suggestive of England's power and prosperity. 

Among the excursions of the week was one with Mrs. B. to 
Bunhill Fields, where we saw the tombstones of John Bunyan, 
Mrs. Susanna Wesley, Daniel DeFoe, and Dr. Isaac Watts, among 
many others. The day was unpleasant, and we did not linger long. 
Just opposite the cemetery is a chajjel built by John Wesley ; and 
near it the house in which he died. 

I visited South Kensington with Mr. G., of Connecticut, who was 
much delightecl with collections of shells and coral in the Hall of 
Natural History. From these exquisite specimens, especially the 
coral, one can judge that the palaces of Leviathan may be fashioned 
with wonderful beauty. The rarest shell in the collection is not 
as remarkable for its loveliness as many others. The hall contains 
a splendid store of birds. I visited the departments of mineralogy 
and botany. Afterward I went through the East Indian section 
of the Museum. Miss H., of Brooklyn, who, with her father, 
was residing temporarily in London, escorted me to the British 
Museum one morning. Of course we were detained a little time 
before the old autograj3h specimens, and we also gazed dutifully 
at many strange and antique things, among which were relics 
of departed kingdoms. But it will be much safer to depend on a 
catalogue, than to wait until Sola prepares a description, if one 
really wishes to know what the museum contains. After lunch at 
Miss H.'s lodgings, we went to Covent Garden Market and various 
places in that vicinity. On another day we visited the Parliament 
Houses, where I gazed with republican veneration on the real 
throne in the House of Lords. There is also a throne in the 
Queen's robing-room — a noble and much adorned apartment into 
which we were first ushered. The great gate, through which 
Victoria is supposed to pass, was never opened to receive her, save 
on one occasion, I was told. Miss H. said she believed the reason 
Her Majesty is so chary of her presence in London is the fear of 
assassination. Whenever the royal coach passes through the 
streets they are prepared for the occasion, and the coach is driven 
at great speed. 

A Pilgrim embarkation scene, among other paintings of the Par- 
liament halls, speaks volumes to the heart of an American. The 
hall of the House of Lords is not over spacious, though highly 
decorated. The golden canopy of the throne was covered ; but 
the throne itself, with the chairs on either hand and the arms of 
the United Kingdoms were in plain view. Over the gallery, on 
the opposite side of the hall, is a grating of fine net-work, behind 
which ladies have to be imprisoned during the session of the 
House, if allowed to be present at all. They are remote from the 
speakers and invisible to them. When members of the House of 



A PEEP INTO CAELYLE'S WINDOWS. 69 

Commons enter the House of Lords on official business, they must 
stand behind a railing at the back side. 

From the Parliament Building we went to Westminster Abbey, 
where my friend left me. I lingered there some time alone. 
Among the statues that especially riveted attention in the Abbey, 
are those of Isaac Newton and William Wilberforce. The face of 
Wilberforce is that of a man who looked solemnly on life and its 
transactions. A friend of the mother of Queen Victoria, his influ- 
ence over her own life has no doubt been a pervading force, thus 
modifying and guiding her views and opinions in matters of state. 



CHAPTER XXV. 



A PEEP INTO CARLYLE S WINDOWS, WITHIN THE DOORS OP EXETER 
HALL AND HARLEY HOUSE. 

Good London views are gained by taking sails on little steamers 
that ply up and down the Thames, stopping at various piers. I 
took one at London Bridge on a windy day, bent on visiting the 
former home of Thomas Carlyle. The boat was not luxuriously 
fitted up, and its trick of bowing the smoke-stack, on passing the 
low bridges now and then, reminds one of the habit certain civil- 
ized animated beings have of smoking into the faces of those about 
them. I passed by Chelsea by mistake, and landing at Battersea 
Square, went up into the town, to be sent directly away again to 
the boat that was just starting back. I landed next at Chelsea 
pier, and found No. 5 Cheyne Walk, a pleasant house standing back 
from the street. Was it the house of Carlyle ? Or was I in danger 
of ." weeping at the wrong tombstone?" It was not the place, so 
I turned back, and entered a narrow park in which was a statue of 
Carlyle, the man who for many years swayed the minds of English- 
men as few have ever done. He is represented sitting on a chair 
in a thoughtful attitude, with many books about him. 

A butcher, whose shop was near the park, directed me to the 
house I was seeking. It was on a street at right angles to Cheyne 
Walk, and called Cheyne Row, at what is now No. 24, formerly No. 
5. The house was closed and for sale. It is a dark, gray, narrow 
dwelling, there being but one window at the side of the humble 
doorway. At the left side of the broad step before the door was 
an ample scraper, and in the door an opening to receive letters. 
The small area was enclosed with an iron railing that prevented 
my gathering any of the few withered leaves that had fluttered 
into it from some neighboring tree. As I stood before the ordinary 
home of an extraordinary man, I saw a young girl passing by, wheel- 
ing a child in a little wagon. I asked her if she recollected Mr. 
Carlyle; she said she well remembered him, as he had but lately 
died. Her father had worked for him. In reply to my question, 



70 WAYMA.RKS. 

intended to draw out her impressions of the man, she said, he 
was"ra-ther'arsh." She spoke of seeing him come out at times to 
enter a carriage for a ride, and said the statue in the park looked 
just like him. I wandered a little further down Cheyne Eow, 
turned into a street at the right, and gazed back at the rear of the 
plain block of houses, with that peculiar fascination we have at the 
sight of the things once familiar to those who have thought and 
felt with depth and power. It is especially needful for such a soul 
as Carlyle's to find anchorage. So tossed, and drifting amid such 
heavy seas of care and doubt, let us hope it did find such anchorage 
•''within the veil," where his faithful mother so long and earnestly 
commended his dependence. Did not his impatience in latter 
years grow strong against downright infidelity, and did he not 
consciously acknowledge then the worth of his mother's faith ? 

I took the bus back to Charing Cross, passing Hyde Park, and 
down through Piccadilly. Learning that there were to be Salvation 
Army meetings at Exeter Hall, I joined one afternoon the crowd, 
who, on paying a trifle at entering, were taking seats in the great 
auditorium. My heart was at once solemnized and uplifted. 
Music subdued and harmonious had already begun. Soon the 
other exercises were commenced. Prayer was offered, in which 
was a petition that the lives of the members of the Army might be 
consistent with their profession. General Booth presided over the 
meeting, during which, from time to time, hymns were sung with 
great animation, to fine accompaniments of stringed instruments, 
drums, etc. On the platform was a large company of reformed 
men in Army uniform. On one side of the platform were women 
in the plain dark array of their order, while some were scattered 
about among the other attendants at the hall. One of these be- 
hind me played a tambourine. I noticed a woman on the platform 
who played a violin with such enthusiasm, that she seemed 
dominated bodily by the music, as she swayed backward and for- 
ward with its measures. The wife of General Booth made a 
lengthy address, in which she examined various methods which 
had been proposed for the uplifting of the degraded classes, such 
as improved tenements, better education, etc. She would like all 
these benefits applied, she said, and yet she believed that all out- 
ward appliances would fail, where hearts are not reached and 
changed. The method of the Army was to strive for heart regen- 
eration, believing that when hearts are made pure, men will make 
better surroundings for themselves and their families. Mrs. Booth 
said she had travelled many thousand miles in her work, even when 
rearing a young family. She was tired and longed for rest. Yet 
she meant still to war against the Devil. Her son sang one or two 
solos, the congregation joining in the choruses. Miss Booth, who 
had just been released from her imprisonment in Switzerland, 
spoke of having received many testimonials from those who had 
been led to new lives through the work of the Salvationists. She 
appeared to be a well educated lady. Her manners and looks were 



71 

as unaffected and refined as those of well-bred young ladies usually, 
at least they so appeared to me. 

There were one or two other speakers. I was very sorry to see 
a disposition in some to answer opposers with great excitement of 
manner. If a work is of God, it will prevail, and why not conserve 
force in every religious undertaking, in order to concentrate it 
against evil, rather than against those who are of different opinions. 

Having seen deplorable evidences of the need for highway work 
in London, I was disposed to grasp the hope that these earnest 
people are adapting their means to needs too universally over- 
looked. Then, too, it may be that they meet a craving for excite- 
ment, which must be considered, not because it may seem to well- 
disciplined minds a necessity ; but because it is a fact with a large 
class of human beings. To have been born amid confusion and 
wickedness, to have grown up without any high aspirations, amid 
vice and ignorance, and yet with all the powers and impulses of 
humanity ; to have the low theatre and concert and dance as the 
goals for daily exertion, what a terrible condition ! How little do 
the refined, the opulent, the cultured comprehend the state of 
those thus situated ! How few among these last will concern 
themselves for those who live in such a different sphere ! If any 
will pity these who sink amid such dark billows, and will man any 
life-boat to go after them, let the loungers on the shore at least 
beware of hindering. 

In the National Gallery of Painting, I was perhaps most inter- 
ested in two lovely works by Murillo, and in a picture quite in 
contrast to these, but very good in its way, a Dutch representa- 
tion of an old woman peeling a pear in a kitchen. The Turner col- 
lection surprised me by the blurred appearance of the pictures, the 
artist not understanding the secret of producing durable coloring. 

I heard Mr. Spurgeon preach on my second Sunday in London, 
this time a sermon relating to children, from the text I. Kings, 
xiv. 13, where, in reference to the young son of Jeroboam it is 
said, " In him there is found some good thing toward the Lord 
God of Israel." The preacher spoke of Jeroboam sending his 
wife in disguise to the prophet Ahijah to learn the fate of his sick 
boy, as showing how much more ready some people are to have 
their fortunes told than to have their faults shown to them. Jero- 
boam knew that should he openly consult Ahijah, that faithful 
man would reprove him for his gross wickedness. But the child's 
character shines conspicuously forth amid the darkness of his 
father's court. The record is not that he was a perfect child, or 
that he was greatly given to good works, or learned in the law above 
a child's usual capacity ; it simply says there was found in him 
some good thing toward God. Let us then be contented to find 
some evidence in a child that he loves God, and not despair when 
he is not a mature Christian, and wholly sanctified. The germ of 
immortal life, if really in the soul, will expand. Older Christians 
should understand this and be patient toward young believers. 



72 WAYMAKKS. 

I attended a line promenade concert at Covent Garden Theatre. 
The great space back of the stage was open to promenaders, re- 
freshments being furnished there. The music was artistic. One of 
the songs most enthusiastically received was " The Village Black- 
smith " by our own American poet. Eemembering the advice of 
Miss W., at Lucerne, to hear Eev. H. Grattan Guinness when at 
London, I made inquiries in regard to the place of his labors, and 
at last succeeded in gaining the idea that he with his wife were 
very active in Christian work ; that he would be found at Bow, in 
in the eastern part of London, at Harley House, where he gave 
afternoon lectures on missionary topics. Acting on these hints, I 
took an afternoon coach in the Strand, and riding out to Bow, was 
"set down" in a broad thoroughfare, before a house standing 
back from the sidewalk, and having on a post of its door-yard 
fence the inscription "Harley House." I had expected Harley 
House to be some large public edifice, in which were arrange- 
ments to give entertainments and discourses, as at Tremont Tem- 
ple, Boston. Instead, it seemed like a residence, and I felt timid 
at approaching its entrance. A woman, however, was coming out 
of the side gate, and to my inquiry if meetings were held there, 
she suggested pleasantly that I could easily ask at the door. Thus 
encouraged, I resolved to do so, and was answered by a pleasant 
lady who was just taking leave of a visitor in the hall. I learned 
from her that there were no public lectures given at Harley 
House, the residence of Mr. Guinness ; but in its rear were col- 
lege buildings and grounds, in which students in training for mis- 
sion work were instructed and cared for. She proposed showing 
me these premises so heartily, that I was soon with her gazing 
about the precincts of the " East London Institute for Home and 
Foreign Missions." 



CHAPTEK XXVI. 



A MAN OP GREAT PURPOSES. — THE HAUNTS OF COLERIDGE AND WHIT- 
TINGTON.— THE SCENE OF GILPIN'S RD3E. 

Back of Harley House is a garden, with a greenhouse, a space 
for exercise and sport, and walks bordered with shrubbery. On 
the right hand the college halls and dormitories are ranged. 

It was an hour of recess when I arrived ; but we had only visited 
a room or two, when the students were called in, and after an in- 
troduction to a dark-skinned but bright-eyed Congo boy who was 
running about, we returned to the garden walks, and enjoyed a 
social talk on mission work. I spoke also of Mr. Guinness's writ- 
ings on the prophecies, of which the lady seemed rather reluctant 
to speak herself, as fearing lest she should not exactly represent 
his true position. But she proposed rather to go and ask if he were 



A MAN OF GREAT PURPOSES. 73 

not at liberty to see me. Of course I did not presume to seek 
this ; but though she said he was especially busy, she rather in- 
sisted. So she ran in the house and soon brought word that he 
could spare a few moments for me. Soon a tall, smiling gentle- 
man, with a pleasant blue eye, hair slightly gray, and manner 
genial and kind, came bare-headed from the doorway and began 
walking up and down the garden walk at my side. We spoke of 
mission work, and he talked of his plan in conducting his institute. 
Students who show good evidence of conversion, and the ability 
and desire to do missionary work, are admitted to the East Lon- 
don Institute on his grounds at Bow, or to Hulme Cliff College in 
Derbyshire, where Mrs. Guinness was then spending a few days. 
If needing pecuniary aid, they are assisted in this respect. At the 
same time, they practise evangelical work in various parts of 
London, and receive a preparation to become either general or 
medical missionaries. At Hulme Cliff College students are trained 
more especially with a view to African missions, and gain a knowl- 
edge of practical agriculture and other useful arts. Two hundred 
missionaries had already gone forth during eight years ; they were 
of twenty different nations, and were laboring among about thirty 
different peoples. The cost of these great enterprises was de- 
frayed by voluntary contributions. Though Mr. Guinness is a 
Baptist, these schools are not denominational. I ventured to ask 
if he looked for the second coming of our Lord now, and referred 
to the opinion of Rev. Jonathan Edwards, that the heathen will be 
evangelized before that event takes place. He replied that he was 
a great admirer of Dr. Edwards, but thought his views of the 
prophecies would have been changed, had he lived in our time, 
when Papacy has fallen. Mr. Guinness decidedly expressed his 
present expectation of the second coming ; while believing that the 
churches should hasten to set up a witness to the truth in every 
land. As I started to take leave, Mr. Guinness invited me to stop a 
moment in his study, where he held to my view some manuscript 
of a new work he was preparing for the press. He gave me a 
copy of his celebrated book called " The Approaching End of the 
Age," eighth edition. He expressed his surprise at its popularity. 
As I took leave, he said he had two children on the ocean at that 
time. He wished for me God's blessing and " journeying mercies." 
Since then, I have taken much satisfaction in reading the work he 
gave me, and think it a wonderful study of both prophecy and 
Providence. It is a book not lightly to be looked over, but to 
be considered carefully and conscientiously, by those who would 
discern the " signs of the times." 

Mr. Guinness, with his gifted wife, have since visited America 
to speak in the interest of the " Livingston Inland Mission on the 
Congo, Africa," an enterprise in which they have been main fac- 
tors, and which they have seen best to entrust to the American 
Baptist Missionary Union. 

I returned from Bow highly pleased with the result of my long 



74- WAYMARKS. 

ride. One gains a good idea of the extent of London by taking 
excursions of this kind in different directions. Mrs. B. invited 
me out to Highgate Hill one day. We passed Islington, where 
the wife of John Gilpin is supposed to have dined, while he was 
forced to dine at Ware. But " no turnpike gates wide open flew " 
for us, as all the roads were now free and times had changed " in 
famous London town." Mrs. B. pointed out to me the famous 
" Whittington Stone," where the youth who was to be Lord Mayor 
of London, heard the bells, as it were, ring out in speech to him. 
We passed the former house of Coleridge, the poet, in which Mrs. 
B. had once resided. It is a broad house, with an entrance in 
the middle of the front. It is apparently but one room deep. The 
surrounding locality is like that of some rural town in New 
England. Walking slowly on over the hill, down toward Kentish 
Town, we noticed an inn with a showy sign, and an insciTption 
telling that opposite the place, Queen Victoria had once barely 
escaped injury by an accident while riding. Beyond this place 
are some pleasant residences surrounded by shaded grounds, and 
an extensive estate belonging to the Baroness Burdett Coutts. In 
this suburban part of London are found coach stations at inns of 
quaint and curious names, such as we find in Dickens's descriptions. 
We returned to London by coach. I noticed Whitefield's Chapel 
by the way. 

Supposing that one must look in Paris rather than London, for 
the most tasty displays of dry goods, I was astonished to see how 
rich and pleasing were the specimens shown in London houses. 
It was said, however, that English trades people do not submit 
patiently to the American way of examining goods thoroughly 
when there may not be an intention of deciding upon them at 
once. I heard a jeweller in the Strand say that he could not 
endure the American way of shopping. A woman who kept a 
little store patronized by Mrs. B., told as a very absurd fact that 
Americans had not hesitated to say, " We are looking at goods 
to-day, and buying to-morrow ! " Not having a great liking for 
shopping, I did not greatly test the patience of merchants, and 
usually found them kind and obliging in my limited experience. 
But time, tide, and Cunard steamers wait for no woman, and Sola 
must needs be gone from London, leaving many a feast of rich dis- 
covery untasted. Like the little child who, after spending a penny 
for candy, returned home saying she had left a great deal in the 
store, she departed, glad of all that had been enjoyed, and grate- 
ful for much gentle attention at the hands of London acquaint- 
ances, especially Mrs. B. On the last evening we passed together, 
we walked out on the bridge near her residence, and beneath the 
unchanging "lamps of heaven," gazed on the lights along the 
Thames, glittering on its bridges, quays, and vessels, and spark- 
ling from the populous stories of the buildings upon the shores 
of its "dark flowing" tide. I shall long associate that scene in 
memory with Longfellow's poem beginning, 



A MAN OF GREAT PURPOSES. 75 

" I stood on the bridge at midnight, 
As the clocks were striking the hour, 

And the moon rose o'er the city, 
Behind the dark church tower." 

Mrs. B., who is a fine singer, rendered for me that song the 
same night, sitting at her piano. That poem has in it a soundless 
depth, our conception of its meaning being according to our own 
measures of sensibility and experience. It murmurs like a river, 
yet its voice swells to the tone of sea waves. It suggests the 
conflicts of earth, the triumph of him that overcometh, and the 
peace of eternity's rest. 

In the early morning I rode to the Midland railway station, 
Mr. D., of Philadelphia, attending me, and very carefully choosing 
my place on the train and making the little arrangements neces- 
sary for the journey to Liverpool, before bidding me good-by. 
The Midland route goes through some wildly picturesque scenes, 
but heavy mists obscured the landscape at times. A craggy 
height, a gorge among the hills, then a tall chimney pouring out 
smoke, a glimpse of a manufacturing town, then thick vapors 
shutting in the views, such were the window pictures by the way. 
A few agreeable passengers, who engaged in general conversation, 
made the ride a little social. One gentleman, gathering my nation- 
ality from a remark or two, referred to the late civil war in the 
United States, and inquired if it was likely to be repeated. " The 
South fought well," he exclaimed. Then he added, as if ques- 
tioning on which side my sympathies might have been, " They 
both fought well," a statement which none need question, if to 
wage warfare bravely, and with the opinion that the cause is good, 
is to right well. On my arrival at Liverpool, there was still enough 
of daylight left for me to go down to the Cunard office to make 
arrangements for my ocean voyage. Wishing to search also for 
the trunk I had months before hurriedly entrusted to a man, I 
there made some inquiries which were overheard no doubt by a 
porter who had brought my steamer-chair from the Inman office. 
I had paid the man, and was out on the street corner in the even- 
ing darkness. He lingered to say in a low, respectful manner, 
that a certain omnibus would take me directly past the station I 
was seeking. I felt truly grateful for gallantry so genuine as well 
as delicate. The trunk was not to be traced out, but its loss did 
not mar my profound slumber that night, in a freshly fitted room 
of the new Eberle's Grand Hotel. 

THE SONG OF THE OCEAN STEAMSHIP. 
By Sola. 

Standing apart where the throbbing heart 

Of the toiling Ship beat near my own. 
As she wheeled her way o'er waters gray, 

I heard her sigh in a plaintive tone, 



76 WAYMARKS. 



Under her breathing heavy and hoarse — 

41 Plodding along on my tiresome course, 
While neither the heavens nor waters shine, 

But wrapped in vapors the winds repose, 
I furrow this fruitless field of brine, 

Like ploughman whose harvest never grows. 
But when the eyes of the tempest glare 
From midnight depths of his wintry lair, 
And his roar peals through the welkin black, 
I trembling spring on my rugged track ; 
Or crouch and cower where the breakers crash, 
As over my frosted spars they dash. 
I start and shiver, I dart and quiver, 

Beaten and buffeted, rocked and jarred, 
I quake and shudder, from stem to rudder — 

Alas ! the paths of the sea are hard." 

The clouds rolled off with the morning's glow, 

And sailors cheerily sang "Heave Yo ! " 

Spreading each sail to the south wind bland. 

That harped on the ropes, like minstrel's hand. 

The warm East flushed, and the fair sea blushed, 

The Steamer over the bright waves rushed 

Steady and strong, — and I caught her song 

Soft and glad, as she bounded along: 

"A ship is gayest of man-made things, 

Give her but freedom to lift her wings. 

Lightly she skips o'er the billows' tips, 

While sparkling foam from her curved prow drips. 

She speeds with grace on her shoreward race, 

Like sea-bird seeking her resting-place. 

She is gray and dull as fettered gull, 

When they bind the sails that plume her hull ; 

But give to the toiling bark her wings, 

And she is gayest of man-made things." 

Speed well, fair vessel ! and bear me home 
To scenes delightful beyond the foam — 
And speed free spirit ! that lightly glides, 
Buoyed by Hope's pinion, o'er Life's rough tides. 
How weary the soul that plods through Time, 
Nor spreads pure aims in the realm sublime, 
Where upper currents of Promise sweep 
Toward shores of refuge beyond that deep ! 
But give the spirit her heavenward wings, 
And she is gladdest of living things. 



CHAPTEE XXVII. 

hail Columbia! 



After spending the mid-day hours about the streets of Liver- 
pool, I rode over to the pier where lay the tender waiting to con- 
duct passengers to the Gallia, that was anchored far below. Taking 
my seat on the boat in good season to superintend a quarrel be- 



HAIL COLUMBIA ! 77 

tween some visitors and an officer, I tortured myself a little with 
the idea that a part of my baggage might really still be on shore, 
since I had not seen the porter place it among the rest. But I 
did not go back to see, though feeling as did the mother of 
Nicholas Nickleby on moving day, about a tea-kettle and an um- 
brella left behind in fancy. Then, too, I had no state-room se- 
cured as yet, having made a change in steamships while at Lon- 
don. A letter from the "Exchange" commending me to official 
care had not yet arrived — it came after we left Queenstown harbor. 
But an excellent room was at once given me, on presenting my- 
self at the purser's office. 

At nightfall the Gallia started. We passed the light-house tower 
while the skies were still tinted by the sunset. The city lights in 
two long lines on either shore, stood like the guards of a farewell 
escort, closely ranked at first, then fewer, until they were seen no 
more. 

The sea spread open before us, the foreign shores faded ; our 
ship was westward, yes, homeward bound. In spite of weariness 
and the effect of various cares, there stole like sunshine among 
clouds, a glow of enthusiasm over my mind, at the thought. 
There were pleasant scenes, there were kind hearts in that disap- 
pearing Old "World ; but I was going home ! How would it be 
when the crossing toward Heaven is begun ? 

A few hours were passed in the harbor of Queenstown on the next 
day, which was Sunday. This town has a monotonous aspect from 
the sea. Houses rise tier above tier apparently, on the sloping 
shore, with little variety in their exterior, and there seem to be no 
superior public buildings among them. We weighed anchor at 
evening, as a storm was gathering. I stood awhile in a sheltered 
place watching the Irish coast and thinking of Ireland's warm- 
hearted exiles, her beloved and worthy evangelist Patricius — her 
present unhappy state. A large church stood out on one of the 
hills against the rainy sky. But most of the buildings along the 
smooth green shores were small one-storied cottages with roofs 
slanting down close to the doors. Discovering, as I thought, a 
partially destroyed edifice that might once have been a castle, I 
asked a sailor if it were not a ruin. " It was something they did 
not take quite away. Yes, it might have been a rooin," was his 
verdict. At length there were high lands with scarcely a dwelling 
to be seen upon them. 

Exit Sola, to remain most of the days and nights until Thursday 
eve, a sea-sick prisoner in her state-room. This part of the pro- 
gramme was unexpected, but far from monotonous. Day after day, 
and night after night, the storm- waves tossed the ship. She would 
pitch and roll, climb and sink, shudder and throb, like some crea- 
ture in great difficulty, struggling to overcome opposition and at- 
tain an end. Great billows would roll along her sides, sounding like 
cannon-balls ; then some wave would give her a broadside, mak- 
ing her reel and stagger for an instant. One night there came a 



78 WAYMARKS. 

sudden check to this tumult. The engine ceased to beat. There was 
a subdued noise of waters ; yet we seemed to have entered some sea- 
valley strangely quiet. This was no port a thousand miles out in 
mid-ocean. Had the machinery broken ? Suspense was painful, 
as the long narrow beam of faint light from the passage-way 
slanted lower and lower, and the pulse of the Gallia was still im- 
perceptible. 

I learned afterward, that it had been necessary to stop the 
engine, that the sailors might go forward and lower the sails. The 
waves had been too high for them to venture to do this while the 
ship was under full headway. 

When the ship's heart beat once more, my own was calmer, and 
it was a relief to feel that she was yet strong to meet the combat- 
ing waves, whose shocks were welcome now. That uncertainty 
which excites dread in the imagination is sometimes worse than an 
unwelcome position in which all is clear and well-defined ; just as 
" open rebuke is better than secret love." 

The visits of Miss B., the kind stewardess, were very welcome, 
t as well as frequent, in my room. She knew just what to say, 
though, from her many patients, she had little time to say it in. 
She would bring very tempting dishes, that, when she had disap- 
peared, I was obliged to stow in very secure corners to prevent 
their spilling ; when to eat them would have been out of the ques- 
tion. If an article was not firmly placed, down it would come in 
^ a twinkling to the floor. Miss K. was on very good terms with the 
ship, which seldom interfered with her movements ; while it 
would whisk my plate of toast under my berth, or cuff my head 
with the side of the berth above me in a malicious manner. I re- 
gretted not being able to witness the grand performances of the 
Gallia in the "Tempest," from an upper seat. It was not until 
Friday that I could look from the deck on the still sullen sea. By 
this time, I had found an agreeable circle of ladies in a little 
parlor, with whom to exchange thoughts. One of these had been 
thrown from her berth one night, during the storm. Several had 
thrilling experiences of past journeys to relate. One lady was a 
friend of Mrs. Dinah Mulock Craik, and could tell us of her happy 
marriage, and say positively that she had most beautiful hands. 
On Sunday the Episcopal service was read, followed by a sermon 
on the " Forgiveness of Sins" — presented as a doctrine common to 
Catholic and Protestant creeds. We had now brighter skies. 

In the afternoon Mrs. Dr. T. gave to another lady and myself, a 
most interesting account of the early religious experiences of her- 
self and sisters, who were daughters of a minister of the Episcopal 
Church. At night I walked on the deck with an English lady, to 
see the moon and stars, and the waves with their phosphorescent 
gleams, sparkling in the wake of the vessel. Alone, back of the 
captain's deck-cabin, we sang part of a hymn — " Sun of my soul ! 
Thou Saviour dear." 

Madame Adelina Patti, with her companions, were among our 



hail Columbia! 79 

passengers. I heard her speak, as I thought with fondness, of her 
country-seat far from theatres and concert halls. She was heard 
to say that she always went on the stage with trepidation. She is 
naturally a pretty woman of the dark-eyed type, but so closely 
watched by the public that it would not be strange if she felt it 
impossible to act with naturalness at all times. " I saw her sitting 
with her hand in that of a lady, as though clinging, with the needs 
of a sensitive nature, for constant sympathy. Fame may be sweet 
to a woman, if earned and genuine ; yet it must be true that it 
cannot fill her heart." The young lady who went over with friends 
on the same ship with myself to meet her bridegroom, the bishop 
of one of the Sandwich Islands, was now returning to the United 
States. The bishop was older than herself, his slightly gray locks 
being quite in contrast with her own dark auburn hair. I saw 
them in the saloon one day at their books. He was really study- 
ing, she looking now on her pages, probably a grammar of a Sand- 
wich Island tongue, and then furtively at his face. Sola was not 
quite sure whether the bride were not a little out in the cold on 
her journey with her grave companion to a strange and far country. 
But on another day, the problem came out satisfactorily. It was 
all right. Scene : the deck of the Gallia. Bishop has finished the 
last page of the " Life of Luther." Bride is beside him knitting 
a stocking. She is, therefore, practical and well trained. They 
are talking confidentially ; they laugh very heartily together. 
" Beware, indeed, of the man who never laughs," but the bishop 
is not that man. 'Tis well. They will set love's sweet lesson be- 
fore eyes that look to them for guidance. 

But with some others, all was not well. On a sea-voyage, many 
heart confidences are exchanged. Some of these came to the ears 
of Sola, showing how neglect and inconstancy often spring up 
where affection should bloom in beauty. 

One day as our steamer was ploughing its way through the ocean, 
still hundreds of miles from land, a tiny bird fluttered, almost 
exhausted, to the deck. 

"Why did it venture alone on its wonderful journey? Was it 
allowed to come to the ship that it might be a teacher of great les- 
sons there to any who would receive them ? The mechanism of its 
frame, instinct Avith some mysterious purpese, which urged it per- 
haps a thousand miles through the trackless air, was a marvel full 
of meaning to the eye that would pause to see. There was in it, 
too, a hint that there are bold adventurers in a sphere whose deli- 
cate denizens are robed only in feathers. Less strange, perhaps, 
because less rare, were the exploits of the stormy petrels, while off 
the coasts they followed the ship, flying in graceful curves, with 
spreading wings, or folding their white pinions about them, and 
resting their pink feet upon a briny floor. A little boy, watching 
one of them from the deck, exclaimed: "I saw him spread out 
large, and then he closed himself up little." 

There was a duck on board, the pet of a gentleman and wife who 



80 WAYMAKKS, 

had come from Brussels. Its plumage was very soft and beautiful, 
with changeable tints. It had a musical voice, with a slight va- 
riety of inflections of which it gave us a specimen as it thrust its 
open bill from the wooden cage. Its mistress said it knew a good 
deal. It would follow her husband to the door, when he left his 
home, and catching the sound of his returning steps, would run 
to welcome him at the threshold. It had distinct calls for food and 
drink. It was very affectionate also, and had refused food for 
three days when left once in the care of a stranger. This person 
had declined to keep it, when its owners came away, fearing it 
would die of grief in their absence. 

One of the ship's passengers was a cultured gentleman fond of 
natural researches, who told an incident of one of his last attempts 
to take the life of birds, for which so-called sport he had once 
had a passion that continued long even after he had received an 
injury in hunting, that nearly cost his life. "I found," said 
he, "a quail sitting on her nest of sixteen chicks, among some 
bushes. As I caught her bright eye looking into mine, I knew she 
was about to play the fiction of the broken wing, which she did, 
fluttering down before me as if helpless or dying. But I was 
surprised to see her suddenly spring up and fly with all her force 
against me. My attention was thus cunningly distracted for an 
instant. When I cast my eye back on the nest, it was empty, 
every one of the cute little mother's precious young ones, as if 
sharing in her foresight, had hidden themselves entirely away. I 
had no longer the heart to take such lives, and decided that I 
could do without a dinner of quail that day. When asked lately by 
a friend who knew my rural pursuits, for a collection of eggs, I was 
obliged to decline securing them. In studying by observation, 
I have learned that each of the feathered tribes has its peculiar 
habits illustrating some interesting endowments. And becom- 
ing a Naturalist has entirely cured me of a desire to hunt for 
pleasure, though I was once called a ' good shot.' " 

Thus when men get a true insight into the ways of animal life 
below them, with its attachments and alarms, its curious arts and 
wonderful capabilities, a new sphere of enjoyment and instruction 
is revealed. Thus cruelty toward defenceless creatures is educated 
out of the heart, and that gentleness fostered toward all animated 
life, which overflowed from the life of Him who said of spar- 
rows, ' ' not one of them shall fall to the ground without your 
Father." 

As we neared New York we became conscious that soft though 
strong govermental meshes were still binding us in such allegiance 
as is due from all human beings who enjoy society's protection 
and benefits — the health and custom officers came duly out to 
meet us. By the customs' agent, we were one by one questioned 
touching our possessions. Then all were free to go on deck and 
watch for one of the world's fairest scenes, the harbor of New 
York under a brilliant skv. 



HAIL COLUMBIA ! 81 

Blue were the heavens and bright, 

Save where in gorgeous light, 

Pearl clouds slow circled their majestic flight. 

Like a triumphal arch the Brooklyn Bridge rose before us against 
the sky. We were at the gates of a " land of broad rivers and 
streams," " a land flowing with milk and honey," a dernier ressort 
to the despairing, a country over whose grand natural bulwarks 
the foot of the oppressor may not pass ; at least so long as are 
therein maintained those surer defences, the Christian's day of 
worship and of rest, the sacredness of home relations, temperance, 
honesty, and reverence. 

Among the many faces on the pier, was a dear one watching for 
Sola, the sight of which was more absorbing than the rest, a home 
face. But soon appeared our friend T. with a kind greeting and a 
will to aid in her affairs, especially in the discovery of a certain 
coffer, that after a long time devoted to ordinary trunks and boxes, 
was suddenly whisked out of the ship's hold as unceremoniously as 
though various weighty and valued associations did not attach to 
its modest store of contents. 

And "Heliotrope," too, stood near, having brought with her a 
fresh offering of flowers, witnesses under all skies, of Him whom 
if one trust, " mercy shall compass him about." 

MUSINGS. 

Where brown Potomac's shore is crowned 

By Vernon's pillared mansion, 
In many hallowed rooms abound 
Choice relics of a time renowned 

For Liberty's expansion ; 
Yet few among those hoarded things 
Unlock such deep imaginings. 

As the old Bastile's dingy key, 

Trophy of vanquished Tyranny. 

We see it hanging on the wall, 

Then up a stair-case clamber ; 
And through a doorway of the hall, 
Gaze reverently, as we recall, 

'* This was the donor's chamber, 
When Lafayette was Vernon's guest, 
Friend of our cause, through costliest test ; " — 

Ah ! seldom two such souls were met, 

As Washington and Lafayette. 

Grim Bastile's key ! the Kohinoor, 

Britain's unrivalled jewel, 
Had been an offering more poor 
Than this, which proves an open door, 

From bondage vile and cruel. 
How Europe has grown glad, to-day 
Let Spain's uncovered dungeons say. 

While Rome's dismantled ruins show • 

The hateful mirth of long ago. 



82 WAYMARKS. 



Witness the stones of London Tower, 

What moans and bitter shrieking, 
They heard in many an evil hour, 
When on th' oppressor's side was power ; 

Witness its pave once reeking 
With guiltless gore ; and witness well 
Its thumb- screw, rack, and tomb-like cell, 
How England has emerged from gloom 
Sunward, where yet is broader room. 

Witness the arched and moated keep, 

Of Chillon poet-chanted ; 
What victims sank in "oubliettes" deep, 
Or what lone captives used to weep, 

And deem their prayers ungranted, 
Though now men build on what they wrought, 
And garner from their mournful thought, 

Fruits that may not reveal their sowing, 

Till the great Judgment's blaze is glowing. 

Still waits that Day ; yet times are rife 

With the soft arts of pity, 
The Red Cross banner 'mid the strife 
Of kingdoms waves o'er mangied life, 

Sped from Geneva's city, 
Where lately — fair be her renown ! 
An embassy of peace laid down 

The swords of nations — precedent 

And sign of merciful portent. 

Our young Republic of the West, 
Mocks at the bands now pressing 

On older realms, and in the zest, 

Of power and wealth but new possessed, 
Grows careless of her blessing ; 

Forgetting that with exercise 

True valor lives, without it dies, 
And never yet was land too strong, 
To guard the right and fear the wrong. 

Soft skies need heroes, oft, as brave 

As storms demand, nor less unswerving, 

Small boon to us our fathers gave, 

If with our heritage we have 
No scope to prove deserving ; 

'Tis the soul's triumph to believe, 

'Tis the hand's honor to achieve ; 
Let States the dreamy age beware, 
CJnblest by purpose, zeal, or care. 



WATMAEKS 



OR 



SOLA IN EUROPE 



BY 

JOSEPHINE TYLER 



First Outlaw—" Whence came you ? " 

Third Outlaw—" Have you long sojourned there ? " 

—Two Gentlemen of Verona 



BRENTANO BROTHERS 

Chicago New York Washington 

1885 



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